


Apocalypse Now and Later

by ladyarcherfan3



Category: Dark Angel, Supernatural
Genre: Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-24
Updated: 2013-12-24
Packaged: 2018-01-06 15:30:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 35,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1108503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyarcherfan3/pseuds/ladyarcherfan3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alec has enough to worry about at TC in the few weeks after the siege started - and Max expects even more from him. On top of that, he's been having strange dreams about driving down the open highway in a beaut of a car. But just when he thought his life couldn't get more complicated, that damn car shows up in his waking hours, with two guys who claim that the world is going to end, just because he shares DNA with them. And they have to find Max's clone wherever she went in Canada, because she's a part of this Apocalypse Now deal. As if he didn't have enough to worry about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I own nothing, but the muse owns me.  
> Notes: This is a Dark Angel / Supernatural crossover, (because why not?) for LJ's Dark Angel Big Bang 2013. Many thanks to violettestars for her excellent beta work, and many, many thanks to ceares for stepping in late in the game and producing some awesome art work. And to denyce for her always stunning work as mod.
> 
> Bonus: I did a fanmix for this story as well. You can find it [ here](https://8tracks.com/ladyarcherfan/apocalypse-now-and-later)

[ ](http://s282.photobucket.com/user/RHldy/media/Gift%20Icons/Big%20Bang%20Art/ANLBanner5-Ceares_zps3e232d32.png.html)

 

 

 

**Chapter One**

  
The middle of the night was always the loneliest. It always had been, even before she’d entirely understood what loneliest meant.

It was the terror of ‘Nomlies in the basement. It was the fear and pain of shakes, hidden from guards and doctors and even your unit mates. It was the empty hollow in the center of her chest all those nights, alone in her cell, aching for something she couldn’t even name.

But now she could name it. Their names echoed in empty spaces, their faces haunted her through the darkness. Wonderful Steve and sweet little Johnny. They’d been part of her job, but then had grown into a love and a family she’d never been allowed to have before, all thanks to Manticore. And then she’d lost them because of that damn place.

While the physical body had been burned to ash, its memory and terror rose like some ghost and chased her down, through some maniac named White and her apparently perfect clone, 452.

Max.

Max had been the reason her family had been pulled into danger and her own despised identity resurrected. Because of Max’s actions, she - “the cheap knock off” - found out that human love could only carry so far. It carried over the Canadian border after the rescue, new identities and the promise of new danger free lives promised by Max and her cohort of friends and followers. It had carried through the journey across the bleak and back country land they were sent to. But it carried no further than that. Human love could not survive the truth of transgenic existence.

And so here she was. Once 453, and then Sam, she was living her new life with a new name in a town that was barely a pinprick on the map, a hundred miles north of Vancouver. Alone.

She rolled over in her cold bed, eyes squeezed shut against the ever present darkness. Even in the daylight, she never saw the sun. The only people she’d ever loved - had ever been allowed to love - were gone. They had _left_ her. It had become impossible for Steve to separate the deadly grace and inhuman power of the transgenics and the life and love of the woman he’d known. Fear was a terrible thing. Fear had consumed him and he’d taken Johnny and left her. She’d cried and pleaded and screamed for them to stay, but they just turned their backs and left her. And she didn’t know what to do. And it had been months since they’d left.

The darkness inside her matched and met the darkness of the night around her; she fell asleep, body weighted down like lead, spirit fading like daylight in the winter.

There were no dreams when she slept. Everything was just as black there as anywhere else. But tonight, she saw and felt something. A silver of light, silver white and blue all at the same time, gentle but powerful. She felt a thrill run through her heart that she hadn’t felt since she fell in love with Steve. But even that feeling had no life compared to what she felt now. It encompassed all of her abandonment, frustration and fear and loneliness. Images of redemption, retribution and freedom flooded her. And then a voice spoke.

It was soft and gentle, and floated around and through her like a summer wind, all honey and silk, edged with the metallic taste of silver.

“I know. I know. I understand. To have family, the ones you love, turn their back and betray you. I understand.”

The words were not words, but rather just sympathetic impressions of another hurt and lost soul. But they were more poignant than anything that had ever been spoken or expressed to her before.

“What do I do?” she whispered back, her thoughts taking form and floating back to the other sufferer.

“Know you’re not alone. Not anymore. I’m here.” The wind shifted, became more silver and steel, but she grasped at it like a lifeline. “So many names, so many lives! No wonder you are lonely. Such stories of a tortured life. I understand.”

“How?” she sobbed. “How can anyone else understand?”

“Shh, little one. I had a family, one I loved so much. But I was told to change, to love others that I could not, to become what I was not. So I was cast out. Others were chosen to be loved, my own father abandoned me. And my own powers, my very being was seen to be tainted and evil. And I was thrown away and locked up like a beast. I understand.”

She reached and clutched at the light that grew ever stronger. It was edged with red like blood, and she wondered if she was cutting her very soul to keep it. She didn’t care.

The voice continued. “So many names. I too am known by many names. What name do you have now, little one?”

She felt her memories being touched by the light, memories brought to the surface and examined.

“Sam?” The voice took on a surprised and hard edge.

“No,” she replied, suddenly afraid, and for the first time in months trying to look past that time in her life. “Sam was a foolish child.”

“I would have agreed at one time,” was the reply, waves of anger and frustration rolled around her. It suffocated her for a heartbeat and then receded into to cool silver light again. “But what is your name now?”

“Angela.”

The smile flooded through her, warm and sweet and all encompassing. “Angela. How appropriate.” The light faded.

Suddenly terrified that she would be left, she pleaded, “Don’t go! I don’t want to be alone!”

It was as if a hand came to rest against her cheek, soft and warm and strong. “Now that I’m here, I will never be far away. I promise you that. And I will never lie to you, Angela.”

She woke without warning, gasping. She reached up to touch her face, cupped her cheek. Her skin still tingled from the touch. “Thank you,” she whispered to the air.

Some small, analytical part of her brain whispered that she’d finally cracked from the depression and loneliness, that she’d created an imaginary friend.

She whispered to the empty room, “I prefer this to the darkness. Nothing can be bad if it brings light.”

 

 

  
*

  
The road unfurled like a smooth black ribbon before him. Wide open prairies, tall stands of pines all flash by, then sun bathed oaks, deep canyons and high mountains appear and then disappear once again, all in an unpredictable yet known pattern. The stead purr of a well-tuned engine filled his ears and eased into his very blood and pulse. His skin was warmed by the sun, but the wind poured through the open window was fresh and cool.

_This_ was life. This was _freedom_.

It felt like flying, smelled like motor oil, leather and gun powder, sounded like wind, tasted like road dust and beer.

A smile split his face and he started to glance at the person next to him, someone he teased about being excessively tall and shaggy haired. But before he could, the road changed.

The light turned from golden and clear to a sullen grey. Dense pine forests sprang up between derelict towns. The towns grew to even more disgusting cities, sky lines warped and twisted. Fences sprang up, chain link and razor wire, surrounding him. His belly went cold and twisted with sickness. A shrill scream tore through the air, drowning out the engine’s roar, and splitting the very world like a lightning bolt, rending reality into shreds.

And then he woke.

Alec groaned and slapped at the alarm clock next to his bed. He missed and it continued to shrill, thin and brassy. With a snarl, he hurled his pillow at it. The round faced clock skidded across the battered table, fell to the floor with a thump and finally stopped. He pulled the blanket over his head and curled up in the center of the bed.

A voice drifted through the thin wood of his door. “Alec up? Break another alarm clock?”

“No, and no, Josh,” he grumbled. “Go ‘way.”

Joshua’s voice became clearer as he leaned against the poorly fitted door and spoke through the gap around the frame. “Max says you’re supposed to go and talk to her this morning.”

Alec groaned. “Her and her talks. Fine. Fine! I’m up.” He kicked the blankets off in a huff.

“Breakfast! Five minutes!” Joshua called happily as he wandered back to the kitchen.

“Coffee!” Alec bellowed back, and sat up. Feet on the floor, elbows on knees, he ran his hands over his face and through his hair.

As if life wasn’t bad enough to begin with, he’d been struggling to sleep. And when he did, he had very strange dreams. And they’d only been getting stranger over the last few weeks. Though, he could understand most of what he’d been dreaming about. They were under siege at Terminal City, and that was enough to make anyone long for freedom and feel caged. And clearly he’d been spending too much time around Joshua, because who else could the tall, long haired person be? What he couldn’t understand was the _car_.

The big black thing was always there lately. At first the dreams had been scattered images of the country, anywhere but Seattle, which had been fine by him. He’d seen quite a bit thanks to various missions for Manticore, but strangely he couldn’t think of a single time he’d actually been to any of the places he’d seen, but he knew them all. Then, as the nights and dreams passed, he realized he was driving through those places, in a car that for some reason really meant a lot. He knew it was a Chevy Impala, but a very, _very_ Pre-Pulse model, a 1967. It was in great condition, and was in the top five on the list of things he cared about while he was dreaming. The first being the shaggy haired passenger.

But the dreams always ended before any sort of explanation was given. There were only the emotions and images, no reason behind them. And he did not like the lack of control his subconscious was reminding him of.

“Alec!” Joshua called again, “Coffee’s getting cold!”

“Five minutes!” he replied and stood up. He pulled on a relatively clean pair of jeans, exchanged his black t-shirt for a white one and pulled on a brown hoodie; there was a distinctive chill in the air that morning. Then he staggered to the bathroom to shave, brush his teeth and run wet fingers through his hair. That would have to do, he decided as he squinted past the pock marks on the mirror. “Max can give me shit about looking like a slob or about being late, but its shit either way,” he muttered.

In the kitchen, Joshua had a mug of coffee and a bowl of oatmeal sitting on the counter. He was in the corner where the best light was, painting.

“Thanks, man,” Alec said after he gulped down a mouthful of coffee and poked the spoon through the oatmeal. It had just started to congeal, but it didn’t look too awful.

“No guarantees it’s hot,” was the reply. “You’re too slow.”

“Fanks, nife ‘oo ‘now fat ‘ou ca’e,” Alec said around a mouthful of the oatmeal. It was hotter and sticker than he’d expected. “This is good, Josh.”

“Got honey from Jude. He traded for one of our extra blankets.”

Alec scooped up another huge mouthful. “”Ooes ‘ude?”

“X-6. Just arrived.”

He swallowed and sighed. “Do people not get that we’re sorta under siege and this is not the place to be?”

“Lonely and afraid, and knew we were here. He didn’t have anywhere else to go.” Joshusa shrugged. “He brought honey. And bees. And some flowers.”

“Bees? Flowers?”

“To make more honey.”

Alec sighed. “I’m so glad I’m not in charge of all the details of keeping everyone feed and sheltered – oh wait, I _am_.”

Joshua bent to get a tube of bright yellow paint, shaking his head to keep his hair back out of his colors. “You should go. Max will be upset if you are late.”

“When isn’t she upset, these days?” Alec muttered and set his bowl and mug in the sink. “See you later.”

There was always activity in the command center. It was the heart of Terminal City, with the computer consoles, televisions and security monitors. It was also the only enclosed large space that everyone felt comfortable in. Considering that most of the limited power resources were poured into that building, it was the best place to stay warm, have good lighting. So it tended to be crowded. But this morning it was relatively quiet. Luke had just given up his spot by the monitors to an X-6 named Jenga, a dark skinned girl from Dalton’s original unit. While the X-6’s tended to be a bit flighty for prolonged security monitoring, Alec couldn’t turn down help when it was offered.

If only the supplies expanded as exponentially as the help, then everything would be fine.

He wove through the scattered furniture and equipment to the center of the room. A few people were crashed out on chairs and couches – he made a mental note later to find out if they had decent housing or had just opted for a nap – and there was a poker game over in another corner. Mole, who seemed to be championing the current hand, spotted him and waved him over.

But before he could allow himself to be distracted, he heard a shrill voice from the direction of the center table.

“But the meeting is this afternoon! I don’t have time to negotiate a change, and I’m not taking my people in there blind!”

Max. She spun away from the table, tossed her hands in the air before turning back, palms pressed into the table top. Across from her, shoulders hunched but face upturned, was Logan.

“I know, Max, I know. We’ll handle this.”

She shook her head. “ _I’ll_ have to handle this. You’re not going on TV.”

“Funny, I’m on TV a little bit more than you,” Logan replied evenly.

Max scowled. “After that Jam Pony incident, I’ve racked up more screen time than Eyes Only ever did.” She pitched her voice low; it was an old and good habit to protect Logan’s alter ego.

Thanks to the sewer system, Logan had managed to keep his Eyes Only operation going at Joshua’s old house, while also spending a vast majority of his days and nights at TC. There was no time or way to even think about fixing the virus issue between them, but Logan and Max burned with that hope. Alec found it nauseating at times, but couldn’t deny it. What worried him more was losing the ally and asset that Logan had become to the transgenics. And whether he went down because an accidental touch from Max, or because of the toxins in TC itself, he’d still be down. If he was going to hang around TC much longer, Logan was going to have to consider such things, along with the struggles of the transgenics.

As if they all didn’t have enough to think about.

Alec stepped forward and coughed a little. Logan sighed quietly and glanced back down at the paper strewn table, while Max straightened and tried to remove the scowl on her face.

“Don’t even try, Maxie, you just look constipated,” Alec said as he plucked up a manila folder. “So Clemente get back to you?” He paged through the papers and glanced up as Logan spoke.

“Yeah, he did. And he said the mayor is demanding a change of location. Again.”

“ _Again?_ ” Alec tossed the folder down to stare at him. “That’s the third time, in the past two days. What’s his issue now?”

Max, who had stalked away from the table to pace, spun back, hands fisted at her sides. “Well, meeting in neutral grounds outside of TC was way too close to all the toxins and transgenics for his comfort. And then meeting at Clemente’s station wasn’t good enough-”

“Which is a pity, because Matt Sung is there, and we could have had a little bit of insider information if need be,” Logan added.

“And we’d need it,” Alec agreed. “Though that many cops and guns could have gone badly.”

Max spoke over them. “And now he wants it at his office in downtown!”

“Shit.” Alec whistled and propped himself up on the table. “City Hall. Is it for all the access the news people could get or the fact that it would be really easy for that place to be swamped by an angry mob?”

“No idea.” She slumped against the table again. “But there’s nothing I can do now. What I need is a set of eyes I can trust up to stay here to keep tabs on everything.”

“Mister Four Eyes not up to the job?”

Logan frowned at him, but Alec just grinned.

Her face was completely serious as she continued. “Alec, you know a lot of the people here don’t trust Logan, because he’s an Ordinary.” She flicked an apologetic glance at Logan.

“It true,” he agreed, nonplussed.

“And everyone generally seems to like you,” she continued, looking back at Alec.

He plastered one of his brightest grins on his face. “Because of my winning charm, obviously.”

She rolled her eyes, but some of the tension eased out of her shoulders. “That or they’re all as brain damaged as you.” But as soon as she took a breath to continue, all sense of joviality faded. “Whatever the reason, you’ve got a lot of people here that are you friends or at least supporters. And you’re going to need that, if something happens.”

“Max, where is this going?” he asked, suddenly uneasy.

Her face twisted in something like pain. “Listen, I have no idea where this meeting is going to take us, or what’s going to happen. If everything goes south, I need to know you’ll be here to keep TC running and everyone inside taken care of, or to make sure everyone gets out.”

There was a beat of silence. Then Alec sat the rest of the way on the table and ran his hand over his face. “Well, that’s a hell of a thing to tell someone right away in the morning.”

After a moment he shook his head, and looked up at Max. Logan had shifted as close to her as he dared, and his entire being radiated concern for both the transgenics. She stood stiff, hands locked into fists by her sides again, and maintained steady eye contact with Alec until he broke it to stare at his boots.

“You really think this meeting is going to go that bad?” he wondered.

“I don’t know. But I know we can’t risk not having a contingency plan.” She gestured to the room at large. “Every one of us know how to survive on their own, we’ve been doing it since Manticore went down. But we’ve built a community here, and that needs to be guarded as long as there is anyone here. And I think you’re the best for it, Alec.”

“That’s a stunning speech, Max, but I’m not sure you’re right.” He slid off the table and lifted a hand before she could protest. “I don’t want to do it. But I’m more or less doing it now. You somehow – trust me, I don’t even know how you did it, you’ve put Pys-Ops to shame with that brain whammy – but you got me to be in charge of keeping this place running as smoothly as possible. Which is basically impossible. We’ve got dwindling food supplies, a growing population - a population that can’t decide if it likes being inside fences or not. I don’t think there will be riots yet, but who knows, there is a city out there that would be happy to just kill us all and you’re sending people out to try and talk to them. And to top it all off, Josh’s almost out of paint.”

There was a beat of silence after the tirade, and all three of them looked surprised. Then Logan smiled very slowly.

“Would Joshua be okay with acrylics? I think I have a contact that would have some.”

Alec made a face. “Quit trying to take my job, Logan. I can scrounge and deal better than you in my sleep.”

Logan lifted his hands in mock surrender. “In all seriousness, though, it’s not a bad plan to have. Pine offered to go with Max today, as she also has a lot of experience in dealing with politicians – she was on assignment in Washington D.C. for a long time – but we decided that it would be better if she stayed back, just in case there is something that goes wrong and more negotiations have to happen -”

“I told you Alec, I need someone I can trust. We’ve got people with experience, but I need the trust,” Max cut in. “And who I know can and will do the job I asked them to do.”

He looked at her, surprise tugging an eyebrow up. Then, after a moment he stood. “Fine. I’ll be here, doing my thing, if you get yourself arrested or killed by the Ordinaries. But I can’t guarantee I’ll be here to do your job if you do end up doing something that massively stupid. Now I have to go do my job. See you later.”

Without another word, he slid through the sparse crowd in the control room and disappeared through the door.

“Huh,” Logan said. “Was that an agreement or not?”

Max shook her head. “And you wonder why I kicked him against a door the first time I met him.”

“He pointed a gun at me, so I do understand,” Logan replied. “He’ll come around. He has done a lot of growing up.” He looked around the room, and then back at Max. “You all have.”

She braced her hands against the table and bowed her head. “It’s not like we have much of a choice.”

Logan shifted closer and set his hand as close to Max’s as he dared. “It will work out. I believe it.”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah? What makes you say that?”

“Well, to begin with, you’re more stubborn than anything I’ve ever met. You’ll succeed out of sheer bullheadedness.”

“It’s going to take more than that, this time,” she argued. Her gaze dropped to her arm, where a new curl of runes had slipped out from under her sleeve. “Aren’t these ever going to stop? I can’t deal with two ends of the world right now! The Familiars and everything to do with them can stay away.”

Logan gave his soft smile again. “Even if they don’t, you have the rest of us to help. So, let’s let Alec do his thing, get Pine down here for last minute prep, get you longer sleeves, and start planning out what we can for this afternoon.”

Some of the weight on her shoulders seemed to ease, and a few of the pinched lines around her eyes eased. “Thanks, Logan,” she said quietly. Then she turned and shouted at the room at large, “Someone get Pine in here! Dix! Pull up those blue prints of the mayor’s office again!”

 

 

  
*

  
Alec decided the best way to deal with the bombshell Max had dropped on him was the way he dealt with a lot of things – distraction. If he didn’t think about it and kept his mind and body occupied by other things, there was no reason to worry. And there were more than enough distractions.

Though if he was honest, there were a lot of reasons for Max’s plan to come into effect. None of the transgenics had been out of TC – in open daylight without disguise, at least – since the siege began. The fever pitch of fear and hate among the Ordinaries of the city had died slightly in that there weren’t any more protesters outside the fences, and the news channels only ran an anti-transgenic report once an hour instead of every other story.

But, the whole situation could go off like a powder keg with the tiniest spark of provocation. Max had been on the phone and video chat with Clemente and members of the mayor’s office all week, coached by Logan and Pine. Despite the preparation that had gone into the meeting and plans for any and all outcomes, both sides were tense. And as much stress that Alec felt about his job, there wasn’t enough money or booze in the world that would convince him to change places even for a day.

He grunted and shook his head. It was hours until the meeting, and there was a never ending to do list in front of him.

A lot of renovation had already happened throughout TC as each new wave of transgenics took up residency. But as numbers had swelled in the last week – seriously, did people _not_ understand that coming _into_ a siege was a bad idea? – and easy supply lines cut off, things weren’t always in good shape.

Especially when a vast number of the newest residents were X-6’s.

He was honestly unsure how the kids had made it through even the first few years of Manticore’s training. They were clumsier than even the average X-5, slower, and far less ferocious. And when left to their own devices, they tended to form packs. These were all traits that Alec and the other X-5’s had been taught were weaknesses. But who knew what Manticore’s plans for the X-6’s had been. He didn’t care while he’d been there, and he really didn’t care now. All he knew was that the pack tendency led to some interesting effects when combined with a siege in a toxic city.

His knuckles rapped against the flimsy apartment door, which didn’t do much over the racket inside. Music of several different types blared out of fuzzy speakers, and a cacophony of young voices battled over the noise. He loosed a sharp breath out of his nose and pounded on the door with a closed fist.

“Dalton! Open up!”

After a moment, in which the music dropped several decibels and the chattering slowed, the door swung open. Flushed and nervous, Dalton looked up at Alec through his shaggy fringe of hair. “Hey, Alec.”

“Dalton.” He leaned forward and around the kid’s shoulder to peer into the room. From what he could see, any of Manticore’s lessons in order and cleanliness had been forgotten. “Is that new kid Jude around?”

 

“Yeah, uh, he’s here.” He pushed the door open. “Wanna come in?”

“Thanks.” Alec stepped into the apartment and raised an eyebrow in surprise. The place looked like several bedrooms and a linen closet had exploded in the living room. Blankets of every description littered the floor along with a wide scattering of pillows and cushions. It took a moment, but the pattern of sleeping areas appeared, helped by the curled or sprawled forms of a handful of teenaged X-6’s. And despite the clutter, there were no bits of food, no trash or real mess in the place. It was just full and not organized in neat lines. So maybe not all of Manticore’s more useful lessons had been forgotten.

“Having a slumber party?” he asked lightly.

“Uh, not really, we just all decided it worked out better this way.”

“Honestly, I don’t care, as long as you don’t let the mold get any worse in this place than it is. But just make sure when you add a frat buddy, make sure he comes to see me, so I know that there’s a new face around.” He glanced over the piles of sleeping bodies, which were starting to rouse. “So where’s the new kid?”

Dalton shifted over towards the one couch in the room and jogged the foot of its occupant; the kid was covered in a rather familiar ugly purple blanket.

“Hey Jude,” Alec greeted him with a grin.

The kid startled as he spotted Alec through blurry eyes, and he struggled to stand up. The blanket threatened to trip him, and Alec waved him back down.

“Easy, kid, I just wanted to say hi.”

Jude ran a hand through his dark hair, blinked and squinted through the lingering edges of sleep. “Uh, hello, sir.”

He rolled his eyes and gestured to the room at large. “Clearly, we’re not at Manticore anymore.” More of the kids were waking up and realizing that there was a high ranking member of TC in their apartment. There was a flurry of embarrassed movement. “So you _all_ need to relax. Jesus, I’d hate to see what you’d do if Max showed up here.”

“We’d probably run and hide,” Dalton quipped, and then blushed as his jaw snapped shut.

“Lately, I don’t blame you,” Alec replied, and then turned to Jude again. “Josh told me you brought bees and flowers with you?”

He nodded. “Worked on at an apiary, just outside of the city. When everything started happening, I got nervous and ran away. No one out there was friendly to the idea of transgenics, and I wasn’t sure how long it would be until the farmer started to ask questions about his workers and their backgrounds. So I took some of the bees and their favorite plants, and came here.”

“I am going to want the whole story of how you did that, because anyone who can smuggle a bunch of flowers and freaking _bees_ into Seattle and then into TC deserves to be on the scrounging team.”

Dalton grinned. He had been one of the first X-6’s recruited to the team, two days after the siege had begun. “Great! We can go on raids together, Jude!” He glanced at Alec and explained, “He was in my unit back at Manticore. The first one I’ve met since it went down.”

Alec shook his head a little at the kid’s exuberance. “I’ll let you wake up, but this afternoon, wander over to Command, and we’ll have a chat about your skills.” He paused and then amended, “Wait, not Command. Head over to the gym, Command’s going to be busy this afternoon.”

Jude nodded and managed to sort out his feet and bedding to stand. “Thanks, Alec.”

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t thank me. You’ll probably wish you’d never gotten involved.” He let himself out with a wave.

The rest of the day passed in a similar fashion. From the slumber party apartment, he went across TC to the guard room, near the front gates. It seemed that every resident of TC was on edge for the upcoming peace talk, and they decided to take it out on Alec. Mole had decided to estimate the amount of ammunition used in a scenario where Max and Pine had to fight their way back to TC; he suggested Alec get on the phone to with his favorite arms dealer and stock up. After telling Mole where he could shove his “worst case scenario” inventory sheet, Alec moved onto the med wing.

The resident physician, Doc Fraiser, was also making doomsday plans.

“Alright,” Alec agreed after a few minutes of her sharp and logical arguments. “I’ll set up a donation bar in the gym, to start after lunch. We’ll get a few extra pints of blood in case of emergencies.”

Doc Fraiser lifted a brow at his tone, and added, “It isn’t such a bad idea, with Logan still around. I’m not one hundred percent sure, but a few doses of transgenic blood might help against any radiation poisoning from the area.”

“I just won’t mention that part to very many. Logan’s a good guy, but not everyone gets along with him, and if shit goes down with the Ordinaries, he really won’t be popular.”

Now fuming slightly over the fact that his distraction technique didn’t seem to be working, he went over to the area that had been designated the mess hall. With the variety between the transgenic diets, it was difficult to create a steady supply of foodstuffs that would sustain the entire population, but they did manage to create a sort of general menu for those that didn’t or couldn’t cook for themselves. It worked out well for rationing, especially with personal food supplies dwindling. Alec knew that Joshua’s morning offerings of oatmeal and coffee wouldn’t last forever.

The head cook, a pretty red headed X-5 named Aiofe, assured him that the supply of army rations and canned foods that he’d scored a few days ago would last at least another week, but that he probably should start planning ahead. She also agreed to use a corner of the dining area as the blood donation space; her crew could have it cleaned and set up in less than an hour after the noon meal.

Had it only been a week since the siege had started? It felt like a year.

The garage was next, where the limited supply of vehicles used for reconnaissance and supply runs were used. A transhuman named Tank was in charge of maintenance and anything else to do with the two trucks and the remaining van. According to his reports, they would need gasoline in about two weeks, as long as all raids went as planned. And as long as Max’s trip didn’t involve any high speed, evasive maneuver returns. Which Tank had planned for, and filled the van completely.

It was past noon, and Alec wanted to get away before Max arrived at the garage. He wasn’t sure if it was because there might be some tragic ‘I may never see you again, but I love you’ speech between Max and Logan, or if he just didn’t want to stop his never ending list of tasks. But he staggered back to the mess hall and grabbed a cup of coffee.

“Alec, don’t worry, we’ll have this all set up in time,” Aiofe assured him as he wandered to an empty table with his lukewarm cup.

“As long as Doc Fraiser is satisfied, I’m good,” he replied.

A shout from outside echoed through the open door. “Delegation’s leaving! Here we go kids!” Mole’s rough voice declared.

Alec sighed and closed his eyes. The grumble of the old van’s engine floated through the door, and tickled the edge of his hearing under the tumult of voices. It deepened, richened, and became a throaty growl. He knew that sound; it had filled his dreams like a heartbeat – ever present, continuous and familiar.

He put down the empty coffee mug and struggled through the crowd at the door. The gates were just swinging closed behind the van, and it trundled down the corridor of National Guards and their vehicles. But the displaced and soothing rumble remained, calling him to freedom and wide open spaces.

He took a deep breath. He had work to do.

 

 

*

  
Max survived. There was no fire fight, no direct attempt on anyone’s life or safety.

The peace talks had gone surprisingly well. Treaties had been drawn up, allowing transgenics out of Terminal City for reasons of trade and commerce; the blockade of National Guard and SPD was removed. Any and all acts of violence from or upon the transgenics would not be tolerated. That didn’t mean that the populace at large wanted the transgenics on their streets and in their businesses, nor did the transgenics trust them. But the treaty did mean that Alec and his merry band of scroungers could get out and do their thing with less resistance than they’d expected.

Not that they flaunted their barcodes around. Alec’s sources didn’t know or in a few rare cases didn’t care that their supplier or buyer was genetically enhanced, and he didn’t plan on changing that. There were more than a few X-6’s who went out and collected supplies now, and he didn’t want to risk the kids. Or his own neck. He liked that just how it was, though he might have gone without the barcode, for simplicity’s sake.

With hints of an actual future on the horizon for the horizon, more transgenics showed up in TC, crawling out of the woodwork of Seattle and the surrounding areas, hoping the access to the privileges supposedly found behind the walls of a toxic, crumbling section of Seattle’s toxic and crumbling cityscape.

The constant need to supply the ever growing population wore Alec to the bone. What little sleep he could get continued to be haunted by the rumble of that car’s engine and the desire to be free of this cage, free to complete his purpose, and to do what he was meant to do. He would wake less rested than when he had lain down, confused at the unexplained and unknown emotions. Because as much work and pain it was to be TC’s top scrounger and supplier, those emotions and thoughts _were not his own_.

There were shadows under his eyes and wrinkles at the corners of his mouth that hadn’t been there a week before when he inspected his reflection. It was a week and a half after the peace talks, and at least fifty refugees had found their way to TC. Some had brought nothing but the clothes on their backs, others managed to haul their own supplies and trade goods. Not that it made that big of a difference – it wasn’t enough to last. With a sigh, he looked away from the mirror, grabbed his razor and shaved.

His bike was parked in the living room – a habit stolen from Max – and he maneuvered it around Joshua and to the door.

“See you in a few hours, big guy,” he said. “Got painting to sell, deals to make.”

“Tell Rita that Joshua will have another painting next week. Could have more, but Jude asked for help with his bees, and I said yes,” Joshua called, focused on his current canvas, something looped with red and gold and green. Very spring time. “Alec be careful, too.”

He groaned. “Oh, come on, Josh! I’m freaking out from being stuck here with everyone asking me for this that and the other thing. I need some excitement! Getting into trouble might be the just the thing!”

Joshua looked up from the paint, a frown set on his face. “Be careful what you wish for,” he warned.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t get stung by those bees. See you later!”

The buzz of the bike’s engine had nothing of the power of that damn car’s roar from his dreams, but it provided enough freedom for the time being. He raced down little used streets just to be alone with the wind and his mind. It had taken less time than he’d thought to sell Joshua’s painting to the eccentric but still reliable art dealer Rita, and his contacts were all on time and didn’t haggle the way they usually did before caving to his demands. All though it was completely dark by that point, there was no real rush to get back. TC could survive without him for a little while. He grinned, shifted gears and slammed the throttle down.

He zipped around a corner, going at top speed. The bike threatened to topple over, but at the last second, he righted it and gunned it down the street again. Street lights splashed yellow, irregular puddles of light that flashed off the windshields and mirrors of the curbside cars. A horn blared from a truck as he cut it off at a crossroad, but he didn’t slow.

Then, he heard it. That throaty growl of a massive car. A flash of black and chrome appeared out of the corner of his eye, turned a corner, and barreled straight for him.

He slammed on the breaks and twisted the bike into a turn. Rubber squealed on pavement and a plume of oily, blue smoke swallowed him for moment. Heavier tires screamed against the road as the car stopped hard. Wind blew the cloud of tire smoke and exhaust away as Alec clutched the grips of the bike and stared.

The massive black car stared back at him, head lights blazing, engine rumbling. There was no other sound; even the wind was silenced. The darkness between the streetlights was so complete, he couldn’t see anything inside the car, if there was anything to be seen. Then the doors flew open with a squealing creak.

Two tall, broad shapes stepped out. They stepped to the front of the car, quick, efficient, a pair of wolves moving in for the kill. Back lit, Alec couldn’t see any details beyond their silhouettes.

“The _fuck?_ ” In a single, deadly motion, the driver’s arms went up, hands meeting around the grip of a gun, the barrel glinting in the headlights.

“Oh hell no,” Alec said, and tensed, ready to move. He had a better chance of blurring than riding out on his bike.

“Dean!” the other man snapped. In a single step he closed the space between them and grabbed the gunman’s forearms.

The barrel snapped up into the air and a single shot broke the silence. The bullet blew out a street light a little way down the street.

The gunman pulled his arm away and spun to face the other man. “Lemme go, Sam!”

“What are you thinking? The first thing you do is pull a gun?” He reached over and tried to wrest the gun away.

“Let go, that’s mine!”

“Christ, Dean, how old are you?”

“Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“Yeah, and Cas told us why we were here, I don’t know why this is a surprise!”

Alec glanced from one shadowy form to the next as the argument continued and their attention wavered. “That’s it, I’m out of here,” he said to the air, and kicked his bike to life.

They both stopped their bickering at the sound, and the taller of the two spun away from the car and stepped towards him, hands raised in a nonthreatening and pleading manner. “Wait, hey, wait!”

Alec let the clutch out a little and the bike started to creep forward, his toe scraping along the pavement. “Listen,” he said, “I have a lot on my plate. I thought I recognized the car, which is why I stopped like I did. But I don’t need to get involved in whatever you guys are tripping on.”

“Just wait a sec.” The other man stepped forward, more aggressively, but he put away the gun, which was an improvement in Alec’s opinion. “What do you mean, you thought you recognized the car?”

“Dean, chill.”

“Don’t tell me to chill when there’s a dude with my face sitting in front of me. Fuck Cas and his plans, he didn’t say the kid would look that much like me!”

“Seriously, guys, I won’t even hold the gun pointing thing against you, let’s just go our own ways.” Alec tried to nudge the bike away, but the tall guy reached out and laid a hand on the handlebar. He didn’t try to hold it or pull it away, just set his hand between Alec’s.

“Please. Let us explain.”

There was something familiar about the guy. Tall, long hair, a face that was both soft with empathy but with a weight and weariness that Alec had only seen in fellow transgenics who’d gone through Pys-Ops multiple times. The rumble of the car’s engine filled his ears, and he saw the open road, that long haired guy that he always saw as a snot nosed kid, no matter how tall he got –

“Shit.” He blinked back the dream images.

“I’d say,” the other man said, and he stepped into Alec’s line of sight. “Was I really that scrawny and – and,”

“What the _hell?_ ” Alec yelped.

The resemblance wasn’t immediately apparent. The guy was at least ten years older than he was, broader, more worn, but he recognized the eyes. He saw the same eyes every time he looked in the mirror.

“Not usually the reaction I get,” the man muttered.

“Who the hell are you?” Alec demanded.

“Not much better.”

“Dean, shut up.” Then to Alec, “Uh, yeah, this is going to be the interesting part. Basics: I’m Sam, this is Dean, and you are?”

He hesitated. There was no way this should be happening. The guy wasn’t nearly old enough to be a DNA donor, but far too old to be a clone. And how the hell did the car come into this? “Alec,” he said finally. “And you have one minute to convince me why the hell I should believe you aren’t on some nasty trip.”

“I’m not entirely convinced I’m not,” Dean muttered.

Sam shot him a dirty look and focused on Alec. “Okay. First I have to ask you some questions. Where did you recognize the car from?”

“Now you’ll think _I’m_ on drugs. But a dream.”

“Right. Have you had a lot of dreams about it recently?”

“What are you, some sort of shrink? Cuz this is not helping the whole I think you’re on drugs or possibly crazy thing.”

“Just answer the question,” Dean growled.

Alec glared at him, and then looked back at Sam. “Okay, yeah, not _about_ the car, but it’s always been there. For a couple of weeks now.”

“Has anybody else been in the dream? Making promises?”

Dean snorted. “That was your deal, not mine. And there’s no way with his face that you’re gonna tell me that he’s not Michael’s vessel.”

“Who knows, maybe he took a leaf out of Lucifer’s book for this one. His methods didn’t work for you.”

“Okay, seriously, I’m gone,” Alec said, and tried to tug the bike away. But Sam’s hand clenched around the metal and stopped him.

“Okay, Sammy, let me try.” Dean came and planted himself in front of the bike, eyes hard and locked on Alec. “This is how it is. There’s a bunch of asshats that are trying to jumpstart the end of the world – again – and they have plans to do it with fresh meat, because Sam and I weren’t too cooperative last time. Problem is these bastards can only get their jollies if they ride around in a certain person. Some bullshit about bloodlines. And by some weird timey-whimey mumbo jumble-”

“Dude, did you just quote Doctor Who?” Sam wondered.

“Shut up. Anyway, apparently there are two people now that fit the bill. You, and some other poor sucker that wound up with Sam’s DNA. So, unless you want the world to burn, you’re going to work with us. Understood?”

Alec just stared. Then he snorted. “Wait, the end of the world? Is this the same one that the Familiars are talking about? Or a different one? Cuz, yeah, of course there are multiple ends of the world. Obviously. But maybe you should talk to Max, cuz she’s got the runes, not me.”

Sam grinned. “I think we just proved smart assery is genetic.”

“What are Familiars? And who’s Max, and what runes does he have?” Dean asked, ignoring his brother.

“Familiars are some crazy asshats that are trying to end the world. At least for me, mine, and everyone who isn’t like them.”

Dean glanced at Sam. “Do you think they call angels Familiars in the future?”

Sam just shrugged. “And Max?”

“ _She’s_ a royal pain in the ass most of the time, but there’s this prophesy that she’s a part of. And it’s written on her skin.”

“Great.” Dean sighed, but then he grinned. “Knew you were a girl, Sammy. I bet Max is slated to be Lucifer’s new dress.”

Sam pointedly ignored the comment. “Is there anywhere we can talk that isn’t so exposed? There’s a lot we have to go over.”

The only place that Alec considered unexposed was Terminal City. But he couldn’t just bring two crazy strangers, who for all their predatory grace were _not_ transgenics, to the center of transgenic life. But at the same time, they were like loose cannons. He couldn’t let them wander off. Not when they were talking about the end of the world – and he had noticed Max’s runes increasing lately.

“Okay,” he said finally. “I’ll take you back to my place. But if you even _hint_ , even _think_ , about doing anything that could hurt my people…” He glared between the two of them, and then locked gazes with the man who had his eyes, “I’ll take a leaf out of my other clone’s book, and break your necks, and then rip out your teeth for good measure.”

They both nodded, but a look of horror crossed Dean’s face.

“Wait, what? There’s another one like you?”

Alec felt his expression go carefully neutral as he answered. “Not anymore.”


	2. Chapter 1

 

**Chapter Two**

Old habits apparently died hard, or the former king of the crossroads was going for some sort of irony when he suggested the meeting place.

The quiet country roads met and crossed and then continued on. A cool breeze stirred the grass in the surrounding ditches. Then there was a gust of stronger wind, and a faint cloud of dust rose up.

Castiel stood in the center of the crossroads. It was a few minutes after midnight, and he peered into the darkness as he turned slowly; Crowley was late, as was his wont. It never mattered who declared a meeting, if they met anywhere but Crowley’s lair, he always chose to be fashionably late.

“Hello, Cas. How is my favorite angel this evening? Not well, from the look of things.”

He turned to see Crowley in the center of the crossroads, inspecting his fingernails. “Technically, it is now morning,” Castiel replied, the coldness in his voice evident even in his own ears.

Crowley flicked something out from under his thumbnail and looked up with a frown. “Now, Cassie, there’s no reason to be so icy, is there?” He took several steps closer. “So, tell me what’s got your feathers in a twist and made it so necessary for me to stop my _investigations_.” He said the word delicately and looked at his fingernails again, and even in the dark Castiel could see the bloodstains.

“You can’t tell me you haven’t heard at least whispers,” he replied. “The Cage is technically in Hell, though there is no interaction, and you are King of Hell.”

Crowley continued to inspect his fingers. “Darling, you’re going to have to be more specific. I hear lots of whispers and rumors lately. Many of which come from you.”

He ignored the jab. “If Raphael is planning this, I have no doubt there is some cohort of demons planning something similar. I need to have your word that there will be no such thing. We cannot allow this cycle to start again. I fought to end it the first time.” He narrowed his eyes and locked gazes with Crowley, the demon still cool and impartial. “And I doubt you want to lose your title as King of Hell.”

Crowley shrugged. “Fine. I’ll keep a tight leash on my boys, make sure they don’t do anything that would ruin your party. And it would be nice if you keep your feathered frienemies out of my area, as well. I have a feeling if they get that close, you’re going to be in for a world of hurt.”

“If they get that far, I’m expecting you to stop them, especially if you want to keep your throne.”

Crowley lifted his hands in a mock of surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ll keep my lot close and make sure no one gets into Hell, or anywhere near. Though, there are still Hellgates. Can’t promise about those, since they are above ground. And usually inside rings of iron and devil’s traps. Might want to do some recon and pull in as many allies as you have. Just remember, Raphael could make his move at _any time_.” He waved his fingers once and disappeared, leaving only the faintest smell of sulfur behind.

“Crowley!” Castiel bellowed into the night, but he knew it was useless.

He hated taking advice from the demon, but he was right; he needed all the help he could get, and fast. And there were few allies he could trust to understand and reach more quickly than the Winchesters.

There was a rush of air pushed by powerful wings, and then the country crossroads stood empty in the night, marred only by footsteps in the dirt that began nowhere and ended the same way.

 

*

Angela woke the next morning to a soft wave of silver tinted comfort. There was no voice in her ear or mind, but the whisper remained like the sweetest aftertaste across her tongue, the softest caress across her skin. With a soft sigh, she rolled over, savoring the connection to another soul.

And she gagged. The stench of unwashed body was ground into the bedding. Her own unwashed body. She could feel the film of sweat and oil across her skin, feel the greasy, matted mess that was her hair.

This couldn’t go on. Mourning for the things she had lost couldn’t go on forever. A surge of pride and determination washed through her. The silver voice whispered through her mind again, images of remembered strength and power that she had once flaunted. Manticore had been hell, but it had formed her into a weapon. There was much more to her than just a wife and foster mother.

She was a queen, crowned in blood and silver.

Sunlight spilled back into the room as she ripped back the curtains for the first time in weeks. The cool wind worked its way through the funk of sweat and self-pity through opened windows. She pulled off dirty clothes and strode naked to the bathroom, head held high.

Her hair was close to ruin; there were several patches that were all but felted from the lack of care she had given it. So she hacked it off, going short. The dark, heavy locks fell even with her jaw. There was a risk to that, she knew. Her barcode wouldn’t be hidden.

_But where we are going, and how, Angela, that little mark won’t even matter._

The voice swelled in her mind for a moment and then faded, leaving only the impression of a satisfied, proud smile. She looked at the mirror, saw the bright flare of what she had been and what she could be, and the same smile flickered across her face.

An hour later, she strode out of the house, armored against any threat with her biker leathers, and a high collared white turtle neck. Despite the surge of confidence she had felt earlier, long engrained prudence had won out. Besides, the clash of colors was startling and fantastic.

Her bike, which had been one of the first things she’d secured after arriving in Canada, roared to life and she pulled out onto the road, heading for the highway. She didn’t know where she was going, but she knew she had to get back to the States. There was no question in her mind. That was where she needed now. And the silver presence in her mind continued to smile.

 

*

“Son of a bitch! Cas! Remember the thing I said about the bell? Yeah, seriously considering it.” Dean scowled at the angel.

Both brothers were used to Cas showing up unexpectedly by this point. But when he decided to show up without warning while Sam was wielding a suture needle in Dean’s arm, the resulting surprise took a painful turn.

The flutter of wings and the sudden materialization of another person in the room had made Sam jump, jabbing the needle much harder and deeper into Dean’s bicep than was needed or expected. So yeah, he was a little pissed.

Castiel ignored or wasn’t bothered by the stream of profanity that Dean took up as Sam sorted out the needle and finished the last few stiches. “I doubt a bell would be entirely effective, as you would not hear it until I was corporeal in this plane and that is usually the same time you do notice me.”

Sam put a gauze pad over the stitches and passed Dean the fifth of whiskey from the side table. He took several very careful breaths and sat down on his bed. After a moment he looked up and said, “Cas, you look horrible.”

At the same time Dean said, “What do you want this time, Cas?”

The angel’s face was haggard, but his eyes were restless, constantly shifting to different points in the room, but never quite focusing, as if he was looking at a different level of the world. “I…need your help. It is quite a large request.”

Dean’s mouth pinched, and he took a swig of whiskey before answering. “We just helped you and the rest of the world by ganking Eve. And we just got beat up by a revenant – I’ve got stitches in three different places and Sammy’s got a couple busted ribs - so can we at least have a break before you start asking favors?”

Without a word, Castiel stepped forward and pressed his fingers against both brothers’ foreheads. Sam took a deep breath and gave a small smile, but Dean yelped as he felt the wounds on his arm, ribs and back heal; the stiches disappeared with an quiet pop.

“I am correct in assuming you are in suitable physical condition now. And you are prepared to listen.” Castiel’s personal brand of sarcasm dripped off the words.

Dean rolled his eyes and took another drink, lips lifting in a snarl against both the burn of the liquor and Cas’s attitude. “Alright then, start talking.” He held the bottle out to Sam, but was waved away.

“The war is taking a turn for the worse,” Castiel started.

“When isn’t it?” Dean muttered.

“Raphael’s faction has found a way to open the Cage, free Michael and Lucifer, and restart the Apocalypse.”

Before he even finished the sentence, Dean had shot to his feet, jaw clenched and eyes wide. The whiskey bottle fell to the floor and splashed dark amber liquid across the dingy carpet. But Sam folded into himself, color leaching out of his cheeks; his gaze went distant, and small tremors ran through his frame.

“No. _Fuck_ no!” Dean bellowed. “We went through that once, there’s no goddamn way we are going through that again!”

His fists clenched and he made a half step towards Cas, as if he was going to beat him on the simple principle of having spoken such words. But Sam sucked in a quiet breath that left in a quiet whimper, and Dean turned just as quickly.

“Sammy? You’re not scratching at that Wall, are you?”

Sam flicked an eyebrow and took a deep breath. “The Apocalypse and everything about that is pre-Wall, Dean. I still have that in full Technicolor up here.” He tapped a finger against his temple.

Satisfied for the moment that Sam was at least mostly okay, Dean turned and loosed his fury at Cas. “ _Goddamnit_ , Cas! How can they open the Cage? I hid the Horsemen’s rings, all in curse boxes with anti-everything sigils and every possible protective method I know. And do those assholes actually think we’ll say yes, after everything we did to stop them?”

“I said yes once,” Sam said in a hollow voice, face lowered and hidden by his hair. “I could say yes again if it was the only way.”

“You’re _not_.” Dean growled, but the anger was not at Sam. “Because this is _not_ happening again. And I said yes too, don’t forget.”

Castiel waited out Dean’s tirade and then continued. “Raphael’s people found a spell similar to the one Balthazar used to send you away from Virgil, but it is more powerful.”

“More powerful how?” Sam asked. He sat up and the color was returning to his face, and his eyes were focused and hard.

Castiel resisted the urge to nod in satisfaction. They were rallying and willing to listen and help, as he knew they would. How could they not? “They managed to find a timeline and reality that runs extremely close to ours. _Extremely_ close. It is some years into your future and has allowed them to find vessels and a window to open a Hellgate.”

“Vessels? Wait, how? They need the bloodline,” Dean said as Sam stated, “They can’t open the Cage from just a Hellgate.”

“That is correct Sam. They have opened cracks in the Cage from that timeline. If the cage were a prison cell, the bars are not broken, but bent, ruining the perfect integrity. It is incredible powerful and intricate Enochian spell work. Apparently the weapons cache of Heaven included more than just physical weapons. It included texts of unparalleled power.”

“Wait, there’s no breaking of the seals that has to happen first?” Dean asked. “Isn’t that part of the deal?”

“The seals have been broken, there is nothing that can undo that,” Castiel replied. “But as I said, the integrity of the Cage will be ruined, and there will be no stopping Michael and Lucifer from extracting themselves.

“How do we stop them? We can’t let this happen,” Sam said.

“Balthazar managed to get a look at the text – he has agents inside Raphael’s forces. He has the spell to transport us there and back again. He gave them to me. I am going to go and find the angels that are opening the Gate and the Cage and stop them.”

“What do you want us for?” Dean asked sharply. “Sounds like you’ve got it.”

“I need you to go and keep the new vessels safe and prevent them from saying yes. If Michael or Lucifer manages to get a yes, the cracks in the Cage will open even faster, and there will be no way to stop it.”

Dean kicked the bedframe suddenly. “Why the hell didn’t you assholes keep a tighter rein on your weapons? And why the hell do you have a spell to open the Cage _again_? Just in case the first try at ending the world didn’t work?”

“Heaven is in disarray, which is why the weapons have not been as well guarded. As to the why, there was a way to throw Lucifer back into the Cage – there was obviously going to be the flip side to get him out again, or at least allow communication, as this is allowing.”

Sam stood and paced a few steps. “I don’t understand how do they have a bloodline there? Is there going to be versions of me and Dean running around?” He stopped and swallowed hard. “Do – do we have kids?” He looked like he’d been kicked again.

“I am not entirely sure of the details, but Balthazar has done reconnaissance and he assured me that the bloodline is the same one.”

Sam sat back down on the bed, hands in his hair. Dean’s face had gone pale and hard, and he ran a hand over his mouth.

“Shit.” He muttered. His mouth moved in a silent whisper, but Castiel was sure he had said the name Ben.

“Cas,” Sam’s voice was rough but steady. “What do we have to do?”

“I have the spell words and ingredients. We can leave as soon as you are ready.”

Dean grabbed his duffle and started shoving weapons and clothing in it. “Let’s do this then. Stop the Apocalypse. Again.” He stopped and said seriously. “And we are taking my car. I am not going into some weird reality without my baby again.”

Castiel nodded once and produced a green cloth shopping bag out of thin air. “If you insist on taking the car, we need to perform the ritual outside, with you inside of it.”

As the brothers scrambled to collect their belongings, they sent a volley of questions at the angel.

“Aren’t you coming with us?” Dean asked, retrieving the whiskey bottle and capping it.

“Yes. But I will need to set up the spell, and it would be best if you stay out of my way, inside the car.”

Sam paused in folding a shirt. “Can you give us the spell and components? Just in case something happens and you can’t get us back?”

Castiel hesitated. “Yes. Perhaps that is best.” He flicked his fingers at the pad of motel stationary on the table and then passed Sam several sheets of paper, filled with lists and symbols. “There is no time frame on the spell itself, but we do have to move quickly.”

“Got it,” Sam murmured, studying the notes.

“Hurry up, Sam. Let’s get this thing done.” Dean ripped open the door and headed for the Impala.

In short order, the brothers were inside the car, watching and Cas painted sigils and placed small piles or bundles of spell ingredients around the car.

“I haven’t seen anything like this before,” Sam muttered, attention split between the papers in his hand and Cas’s work outside.

Dean snorted. “Apparently it’s all just been declassified.” He glanced over at Sam. “But we can do it, if Cas isn’t around, right?”

Sam nodded slowly in reply. “As long as we can get the spell components. Hopefully Cas has some leftovers that we can use. Moonstones, Holy Oil, Echinacea…”

“Save the grocery list for later.” Dean shook his head and scrubbed his hand across his face. “Fuck. I’m going to deep fry every last one of those archangels myself. Didn’t they get the message last time?”

“We’ll stop it, Dean,” Sam said.

Before either of them could say anything else, the back door of the car opened and Cas slid in. Sam half turned in his seat, mouth open in a question, but Cas held up a hand to stop him. A stream of blurred Enhocian and Latin tumbled from his lips. Dean snarled and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. With a final harsh word, Cas slumped back in the seat.

Dean shifted and glanced out the windows. “So what’s suppos-”

A flash of brilliant white enveloped the car. Sam cried out in surprise and Dean cursed. But before they could take another breath, the light disappeared, leaving them in blackness.

“I have to leave you now. I will contact you as needed.” There was a rustle of wings, and Castiel disappeared.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean spun around blinking through the negative images of everything the flash of light had left him with. But the angel was gone.

Sam scrubbed at his eyes and glanced at the backseat. “He left the bag of spell components, at least.”

Dean turned the key and started up the car. The familiar rumble of her engine went a long way to calm his nerves. “So how the hell are we supposed to find these poor bastards who were unfortunate enough to get our DNA?”

“No clue. Hopefully Cas dropped us off somewhere close to them.”

“This whole thing is more fucked up than our lives, and those should win an award for fucked up,” Dean muttered as drove down the street. It seemed more or less deserted, and he didn’t recognize any landmarks. “ _And_ he dropped us off in a crappy neighborhood.”

“It’s not like we’re high class, Dean.”

“Yeah, well, in the last weird reality we were,” was the muttered reply. He turned a corner and accelerated.

“Looks like no celeb level credit cards this ti- Look out!”

There was a small shape rushing up the center of the road at them, a blur of headlights and speed. Dean slammed on the breaks just as the motorcycle twisted and came to a stop, right in front of them.

“What the hell?” Dean muttered, and opened the door, with Sam a heartbeat behind.

*

Max was in the middle of rehearsing a speech with Pine when her cellphone rang. “Dammit, what now?” she muttered and stepped away from the table. “Max here.”

“Hey Maxie,” Alec replied, voice blurred by wind and his bike engine. “Just wanted to give you a warning that I’m five minutes out.”

She frowned. “What’s so important that you have to call me? I honestly don’t need to know until you get back – Mole has security and you know that.”

“Oh, I know that, I called him already.” The background noise swelled and seemed far too loud for just his bike. “He’s might come running to you, freaking out. Just wanted to give you a head’s up.”

“Why?” The phone creaked under her grip.

“Uh, I think I’ll just let you see for yourself.” He hung up.

She snapped shut the phone and turned as Mole stomped into the room. “That damn kid is bringing in two _Ordinaries_! Ordinaries! You gotta put a leash on him.”

“Did he say why?” She called over him, trotting down the steps.

Mole shook his head. “Only that you’d be interested. And that he now really wins for weirdness revolving around his life, whatever that means.”

He met her at the exit and they strode towards the front gate together. A small crowd of nocturnal transgenics showed up as well, drawn by the sense of threat and innate curiosity. More than a few hands lingered close to weapons in pockets and belts; eyes shifted from dark corners to the gate and back again, and nostrils snuffed the air.

Then Alec’s green bike appeared in the streetlights and the gates swung open, just as a behemoth of a car rounded the corner after him. It growled after the bike and Max felt the crowd around her shift into battle ready poses. There was something not right about the car. It was too clean, in far too good of condition. And a smell like ozone hung around it like a cloud; it burned her nostrils if she breathed too deeply. It pulled up next to Alec and stopped, but no one got out.

Alec got off his bike and left it to approach Max. His hands were low, palms open and out; his expression wavered between apologetic and terrified.

“What did you do this time?” she asked.

He frowned, and it bordered on a pout. “Why is it always my fault?”

“Because it usually is,” she said.

“Well, this time it’s not,” he shot back. He waved at the car, and the doors swung open.

The transgenics tensed as one and weapons glinted in the yellow street lights as they trained on the two men. Despite the fact that they came out with their hands up and with no visible weapons, strength and deadly skill rolled off them in waves. They were just as much soldiers and predators as the transgenics. And that was frightening.

They were imposing figures in the dark, broad shouldered and tall – one was almost as tall as Joshua, while the other stood about Alec’s height. He looked around the tense crowd and waggled one hand in a halfhearted wave.

“Hey fellas. Didn’t expect the welcome committee, but this is nice.” He glanced around with a smile, though his eyes were bouncing from weapon to weapon, calculating.

“Max, this is Sam and Dean Winchester,” Alec said. “They have some news that might be important.”

“It’s not really for public consumption,” Dean added.

Max narrowed her eyes and glanced between Alec and Dean. The smile they had plastered on their faces was far too similar for comfort. Sam’s face was still neutral, but he started to look increasingly more thoughtful as he looked at her. After a few more moments, she nodded.

“Mole, get these guys to work or to bed and have someone wake up Logan. Alec, bring your new playmates to my office.”

“Alright boss,” Mole said before bellowing orders at the crowd.

Alec sauntered over to her, the strangers still hovering near the massive car. “You have an office that you use?” he asked. “I thought you were just operating out of Command. And by operating I mean working, eating and sleeping.”

“Shut up,” she said. “Let’s go before anybody else wakes up.”

Alec rolled his eyes and waved over his shoulder. “Come on you two.”

A few minutes later, they were all situated in Max’s little office just off of Command. There wasn’t much room or furniture to be had, as Max had never bothered to really do much with it to begin with. She stood behind the desk, eyes narrowed as she studied the brothers, who were crammed on the tiny sofa Alec usually sprawled on when he got the chance. He was on a corner of the desk, one foot swinging back and forth absently. Logan stood by the door, both because there wasn’t anywhere else to stand, and to keep anyone from barging in.

There was no sound in the room. The Winchesters had already delivered their message of archangels and the end of the world.

“So how are we supposed to have these bloodlines if you’re from an alternate reality?” Logan wondered.

Sam shrugged delicately. “We’re not one hundred percent sure. All we know is that it’s a close enough reality that where ever you got the DNA it matches up. Close enough that Michael and Lucifer can use it.”

Alec lifted and eyebrow and stopped swinging his feet. “And what, they send you strange dreams?”

“They try to find your weakness and rip into you from there,” Dean replied. “Try to make promises and threats.”

“So what’s up with the car?”

“ _She’s_ mine, and very important,” Dean said without hesitation.

Sam rolled his eyes and then looked at Alec. “You said it was less about the car and more about having freedom to move around again, wasn’t it?”

“Yeah,” he said, with a slightly guilty glance back at Max.

“There you go. Michael’s trying to show what you could have if you said yes.”

“Okay,” Alec said slowly. “Not quite seeing the logic in his approach, but alright. But it’s just been dreams like that, no words or anything.”

“He probably can’t do much more than that. He’s still in the Cage. Lucifer couldn’t get into my dreams until he was out of the cage.”

Max tossed her hands in the air, and paced behind the desk. “Okay, fine, this is the end of the world coming, whatever you say. But I haven’t had any dreams, and the end of the world for me is the possibility of the nation deciding to destroy TC, and these damn things.” She waved her hands. The runes had traced down her hand and looped around her fingers like a henna tattoo. “I don’t think your devil versus angel showdown actually has anything to do with us.”

Alec sat up suddenly. “Sam.”

“Yes?”

“No, not you,” Alec waved him away and turned to look at Max. “It makes sense. If we’ve got the bloodline, DNA, whatever, I’m the only one with this set anymore. Ben’s dead, but Sam’s still here. Well, in Canada at least.”

The brothers traded a succession of confused glances.

“Wait, you’re talking about another Sam, right, not my Sam,” Dean asked. His voice hardened a little. “And who’s Ben?”

“Ben was my clone. Never met the guy, but he went nuts and turned serial killer.” Alec glanced at Max and then looked down. “He’s dead now.”

“And this Sam?” Dean pressed.

“Max’s clone. We ran into her a while ago. She had a family, got tangled up with the Familiars, went up to Canada.”

“She goes by Angela, now,” Logan said. “I helped her set up the new identities.”

“That will help keep things clear, at least,” Dean muttered, scrubbing a hand over his face.

“So you think that Angela is Lucifer’s new vessel, and not Max?” Sam wondered. “What would make the difference, if you’re clones?”

Alec smirked. “Maxie’s got special DNA, no junk or anything.”

“Too pure for Lucifer? That doesn’t even make sense,” Dean said, shaking his head.

Alec shrugged. “Don’t ask me. Angels and devils and the end of the world seem to be your thing. I just know the genetically enhanced side of things.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t _need_ to be genetically enhanced to be awesome,” Dean shot back.

Sam backhanded him across the shoulder, frowned and shook his head. “You’re also supposed to be the mature one here, bro.” He shifted his attention to Logan. “So you said that you helped Max’s twins with a new ID – do you know where she ended up?”

“I’m not sure. I originally sent her to Vancouver, but I did suggest they move around for a while and find someplace that fit.”

“But you have the original information, right? We can just track their movements, see if they moved, and where. Shouldn’t be that hard.” He glanced around the room. “You got a computer I can use?”

Alec reached behind him and grabbed the laptop off the desk. Sam took it carefully and booted it up. “Okay, let’s just hope the data bases work the same way here as they do back home,” he muttered.

From his position at the door way, Logan spoke up. “I have access to a more powerful and connected database, if that would be useful.”

Max shot a glance at him. “Are you sure?” she asked in an undertone

“They are talking about the end of the world. I doubt my extracurricular activities are going to bother them much,” he replied quietly

The brothers didn’t notice the exchange; Sam muttered at the computer and jogged a leg up and down as he punched buttons, and Dean leaned over to watch.

“This computer sucks, and so does the WiFi,” Sam said under his breath.

“Oh, poor Sammy, missing his own computer,” Dean smirked a little and then glanced up. “Why is everything so crappy here? I mean, I can understand a couple of neighborhoods, but I have been to Seattle before, and the whole city is a shithole in comparison to what I know.”

“Didn’t you ever hear of The Pulse?” Alec asked.

Sam looked up, brow creased in interest and confusion. “The Pulse?”

“Yeah, an electromagnetic pulse that some terrorist group set off in ’09. Wiped the whole computer based everything on the west coast of America. Screwed with the economy and everything big time.” Alec frowned as the Winchesters just shrugged. “You mean you didn’t have anything like that happen where and when you’re from?”

“Well, we had some shit go down in ’09, not gonna lie,” Dean said. “But nothing like that.”

“Then what?”

“You know the whole end of the world thing? Really started rocking then.”

Sam looked back down at the laptop, clearing his throat as he rapidly hit keys. “So, I don’t mean to complain, but the internet sucks here.”

“Did you miss the part about the Pulse?”

Logan said, “My place isn’t very far, I can get you set up with a better connection and more databases. I have all of the information about Sam – I mean Angela- archived somewhere safe, so you don’t have to start fresh.”

“Great,” Sam agreed. “How far is it?”

Alec snickered. “Ten minutes walk-”

“Let’s go and get this done,” Dean said, bounding to his feet.

“– through the sewers.”

“Lovely,” Sam said as he closed the laptop and put it back on the desk.

Dean groaned. “Man, Sammy, do you remember the last time we were in a sewer?”

“Yup.”

“Dragons, man, what the hell?”

“Bigger fish, Dean.”

Logan opened the door and motioned for the brothers to follow him. Max started to say something but stopped. Alec hopped off the desk and went for the door.

“I’ll go with them and make sure your man doesn’t get in trouble.”

“He’s not my man-” she started but bit back the rest of the sentence. “Thanks Alec. Just be careful yourself.”

He paused at the door and grinned back at her. “The world is ending and some big power celestial being wants my body, and I just met the guy that possibly gave DNA for my cocktail, and whose brother is almost as big as Josh. What could possibly go wrong?”

The trip through the sewers was uneventful, aside from a constant stream of complaints from Dean about having to be in the sewers in the first place, and having to leave his car unattended. Sam had started a conversation with Logan about the differences of the economy and politics in their timelines and more about the computer tech Logan had; from the line of questioning, Alec knew that Sam was trying to figure out just who and what Logan was to the transgenics. But he was clever about it, subtle. As someone who had undergone various interrogation techniques both in practice and in theory, Alec could appreciate Sam’s skill. Clearly he was used to questioning people and getting the answers he needed.

Apparently bored of sewer and all its downfalls, Dean turned his attention to Alec.

“It’s still weird to look at you, you know? Not really a mirror, but I remember seeing a very similar face, but it’s just weird.”

Alec turned with a raised eyebrow. “You’re the blunt one of the pair, aren’t you?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“This whole situation is weird for all of us. And we’ve lived weird our whole lives.”

“Tell me about it,” Dean smirked.

“Your life must be weird if you’re not freaking out about this whole thing. Transgenics tend to send every other Ordinary into a tizzy.”

“Not gonna lie, the science stuff wigs me out, but Sam and I have seen a bunch of crap that made us believe that the weird only gets weirder. Vampires were supposed to be extinct, but they weren’t, angels weren’t real, but actually they are… dragons are a thing…” He paused and shrugged. “A clone? Weird, but I can roll with it.”

“And you’ve stopped the world from ending before.”

“Couple of times, at least, with Eve.”

“But you’re okay with the whole genetic freaks thing?”

“Listen, kid,” Dean stopped, forcing Alec to pause and turn to face him. “The only people that are genetic freaks in this world were supposed to be me and Sammy, because the angels said we were part of some bloodline. Lucifer and Michael got stuck back in the cage, and it was supposed to end there. Well, somehow it didn’t, and you and this Angela are stuck with it now. And as crappy as your version of the world is, it doesn’t deserve to end.” He squinted through the dim light. “If nothing else, I have to make sure you outgrow this stage. Damn, was I really this baby faced? Wait, you have other DNA, I’ll blame it on that.”

“Oh, just stop, I’m not baby faced-”

Sam’s voice boomed down the tunnel. “Dean! Come on, I want out of here!”

“Yeah, yeah!” He looked back at Alec. “So, we gonna go and keep the world from burning?”

“If I can help you stop the Devil, I suppose I can do anything. Maybe even get Max to relax.”

Dean grinned. “I probably could get her to relax…”

“Don’t even try it. She’ll rip your head off. And Logan would bury the body.”

“Those two, huh?”

Alec shrugged. “They’re confused and too busy trying to save the world. But they could make it work. They’re both stubborn enough.”

“ _Dean!_ ” Sam bellowed.

“Alright!”

*

At the house, Logan got his equipment up and running while Sam hovered just over his shoulder, twitching to do his own research. But as soon as he saw exactly how good Logan’s computer skills where, his attention turned to something similar to a five year old confronted with a new friend with a similar but more interesting toy. All he wanted to do was learn how to use it so he could be better. Or that was the image in Dean’s mind as the two computer geeks bent over the keyboards and monitors, words spilling out fast and eager as they punched through firewalls and security blocks.

Bored already, Dean plopped down on the couch, grimacing at the cloud of dust. Logan saw it.

“Sorry, I don’t stay here much. I’m more interested in keeping the computers running.”

“More power to you,” Alec said. “We need all the help we can get.” He walked across the room to a door and said, “I’m gonna grab some more of Joshua’s books, and anything else that he might have forgotten.”

Dean jumped up, eager for any excuse to move. “I’ll come along.”

“Watch out for rats,” Sam grinned.

“You watch out for rats,” Dean grumbled back and beat Alec down the stairs. “So what are we looking for?” he asked.

“Josh said there was a box of books that he had left behind – a wooden crate with oranges on the side or something. And then grab anything that looks paint related. Frames, brushes, canvas.”

Dean swept away cobwebs from a shelf and grimaced. “This place is less organized than Bobby’s.”

“Who?”

Dean pushed a dusty box full of rusty nails and bolts back on the shelf and turned. “He – son of a bitch!”

Cas had materialized about six inches in front of his nose.

“Hello, Dean.”

Alec spun around and then blurred towards Dean, body set in battle stance, but Dean threw out an arm to stop him. “Easy kid. He’s friendly.”

“How did he get down here like that?”

“It is a simple matter of dematerializing-”

“He’s an angel,” Dean replied before Cas could finish the rocket science answer.

Alec didn’t relax. “Didn’t you say they were the bastards that were trying to end the world? Why are you working with one?”

“Remember how I said we got yanked from our timeline into yours and how we knew about the new Apocalypse? Cas is on our side.”

“It is my brother Raphael and his followers that are attempting to free Michael and Lucifer.”

Alec relaxed slightly and eyed the angel. “So your family is probably just as big and messed up as mine?”

“That is likely,” Cas agreed, and then turned his attention to Dean. “We need to move. Demons have managed to get to this timeline. We cannot have that, not with Raphael’s forces moving here as well.”

“No shit,” Dean agreed. “Wait, how did you find us anyway? You didn’t call, and don’t we still have the rib scratches?”

“You are still hidden from angelic senses, but I was able to track Michael’s new vessel. His soul resonates on a similar frequency to yours and Sam’s, and Michael has been calling to him. I can follow that. As can other angels. I should mark him as well.”

Cas stepped forward, hand outstretched to Alec’s chest. With a move that almost too quick to see, Alec grabbed Cas’s arm, twisted it back and up, and drove the angel face first against a wall. “The hell are you trying to do to me?” he demanded.

Dean stared. He knew if Cas really wanted to, he could easily break Alec’s hold, but outside of supernatural things, he’d never seen anyone move that fast. Genetic enhancement was starting to make a lot of sense.

Cas took a deep breath and said, “I am trying to inscribe your ribs with sigils that will prevent other angels from tracking you. It will keep you safe.”

Alec growled deep in his chest, but let go of Cas’s arm. “Warn a guy next time.” He stepped back to stand next to Dean.

“So, wait,” Dean said as Cas turned and straightened his coat, “if you can follow the soul vibrations or whatever, can’t you track this chick and help us find her? I mean, Sam’s enjoying himself with the geekery upstairs, but it would save time.”

“I was more focused on keeping tabs on you and your brother. And I did attempt to track her, but I can find no trace of her.”

Dean scowled. “Another angel got to her, didn’t they?”

Cas shook his head. “I don’t think so. I haven’t sensed any of my brothers or sisters in this timeline yet. But the rules are not entirely the same here as back in our timeline-”

“Now you say that!” Dean snapped.

“And Lucifer maybe blocking her resonations. I can sense his influence more than Michael’s in this timeline.”

“Yeah well, Luci always seemed like more of the go getter than Michael.”

“That would be accurate,” Cas agreed.

There was the thud of boots on the wooden stair. “Cas? Is that you?” Sam asked as he ducked a low hanging strand of cobweb. He didn’t duck far enough, and it got tangled in his hair, but he didn’t notice.

“Hello, Sam,” Cas replied, a hint of impatience in his voice.

Dean frowned at him and turned to Sam. “Find anything?”

“Yeah. We got her latest address. Looks like she split from her husband though; he had a different address about two towns over.”

Alec winced. “That’s crappy. She was all about saving that guy and kid and keeping them together, despite everything that should keep them apart.”

“Trust me, sometimes it’s a hell of a struggle to do something like that,” Dean said, voice low and strained, but he quickly refocused. “So where are we going, Sammy?”

“Some little pinprick on the map, about a hundred miles north of Vancouver,” Sam replied with a grin.

“Fucking _again_?” Dean groaned. “Nothing good happened last time.”

“Well, _I_ had a really massive house and a hot wife, so I didn’t mind it-”

“Are you two sure you’re not on drugs?” Alec wondered.

Cas said, “Neither of them are on any sort of narcotic or hallucinogenic. Now, let me inscribe the sigils to prevent other angels from tracking you.”

Dean held up a hand as Alec shrank back a little. “Hold on, Cas. How are you are going to get a hold of us if we’re all under the radar?”

“You all have your cell phones? I will use those as I always have.” Then, before Alec could protest or move, he pressed his hand against Alec’s ribs.

He grimaced and lifted a lip in a snarl, but didn’t move. “Did anyone ever tell you you’re kinda an asshole?”

“Dean and Sam have both made comments to the effect on various occasions.” His eyes twitched to the side and he glanced past the walls of the basement. “I have to go. There are forces building and shifting. I must meet with Balthazar.”

With a rush of wings, he disappeared.

“Damn feathered brained ass. He’s more trouble than he’s worth,” Dean muttered, kicking at a crate next to his foot.

Sam brushed back his hair, found the cobweb and grimaced before going back up the stairs. “Logan’s getting maps with all the current police barricades and what not, and he thinks he has several back up IDs we can modify for us to make sure we get through the check points.”

“How do you live like this?” Dean demanded as they followed Sam. “Check points, security checks on every block…”

“A lot of us don’t live through it,” Alec replied, voice thin. “That’s why we’re fighting like we are.”

“Good. Then you keep that, and remember it as something to fight for. You’ll need it.”

*

The blood sang in Angela’s veins just as loudly as the wind roared in her ears as she sped down the road. Her bike was in fine shape, and the air was cold and sharp, the sun cutting through racing clouds like blades of white gold. She still wasn’t entirely sure of her destination, but every time she came to a crossroads or corner, it was like a compass in her chest would tug towards some invisible point, her own version of true north. And either through luck or some other intervention, she had yet to meet any traffic, police check points or anything to slow her down. It was pure freedom to move.

She crossed the border into the States on a long straight highway, with no signs of any sort of border guard of authority figure. There was no sign of life. But the silver hum in her veins continued and soared higher with every passing mile, and she ignored the strangeness.

The road rolled on like a black ribbon, and she was half a sleep, lulled by the silver light and the hum of her bike when there was a flash of light, brighter and more consuming than lightning. Vision shot and terrified, she slammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop. She braced for a concussion of thunder but it never came. Instead the world faded back towards reality, shadow and light still reversed in her shocked eyes.

Two figures stood in the center of the road, struggling. She kicked her bike back to life and sped towards them. They were two women, one in a business suit, her auburn hair falling out of its neatly kept bun; the other in boots and a leather jacket, face obscured by waves of dark hair. Even as she neared, the dark haired woman sprang forward, arm rising and falling, a silver blade flashing in the dim sunlight. It struck the auburn haired woman in the chest.

A second flash of light, blue white and whistling with power filled the air. Angela fought to recover her balance and slammed the bike to a stop again. As quickly as the light had appeared, it disappeared, leaving only the clouds and sun, and the soft growl of her bike’s engine.

The brunette bent and used the edge of the dead woman’s coat to clean her blade. Then she looked up and grinned at Angela.

“Well, look at you, princess!” She stepped over the fallen body, picked up the satchel from the ground and approached Angela, spinning the blade absently in her hand.

Angela didn’t move, her heart pounding wildly, eyes wide against the lingering effects of the light. The smell of ozone and sulfur filled the air, burning her nostrils with its strength. The woman reached the bike and propped one foot up on the front tire. Her smile didn’t fade or change from the wide, toothy grin of a predator.

“Not chatty or just shy, girl scout? Don’t worry; we’re going to be good friends.” She stuck the blade through her belt held out her hand. “I’m Meg.”

Angela felt a surge of anger burn through her; she didn’t need to sit there like a frightened child, she could act. She remembered who and what she was, remembered the confidence that the silver voice had given her. She sat up straight and glared at Meg. “Get out of my way, or I’ll run you over.”

Meg lifted her hands in surrender. “No need to get hasty, princess. I’m just here to talk, and to help.”

“Help like you helped her?” Her eyes flicked to the body crumbled in the road.

Meg glanced over her shoulder and shrugged. “Who, wings over there? She had a spell I needed to get here. I persuaded her to help me. But she would have killed me if I hadn’t got her first.”

“That’s not reassuring,” Angela replied, shifting her weight onto the balls of her feet, ready to spring.

“No, no, princess, you don’t get it! I know who you are, know that you’re in this fairy tale. You’re the glass slipper, here. So important, and just the right fit.”

“What?”

Meg rolled her eyes. “How do you get by without cultural references like this? I know a guy like that – utterly clueless.”

“I understand the Cinderella reference. I just don’t get what that has to do with anything.”

“Put it this way, princess. I’ll call you Cinderella because you’re going from nothing to power, but you’re really the glass slipper, too. Because my Prince is coming along and is looking for the perfect fit. And it’s you. He’s the Morning Star. He’s my father and my king. And he’s coming back.” Her expression morphed into something close to ecstasy. “I can’t believe it’s happening, that there is another chance…” Then her face darkened and she added, “And it will put Crowley back in his place, the jumped up Limey prick.”

“You’re insane.”

Meg ignored her. “You’re special, sister. So very special. You are going to burn with a white light of power and conquer the world. And I’m here to help.” She reached into her pocket. “Here, you’ll need this.”

Angela stared at the little leather bag. “What is this? And why should I listen to a word you’re saying?”

“It’s a hex bag. It’ll keep angels, demons and everything in between off your tail. And you haven’t had a problem with listening to me until now. Why stop?”

She kicked the bike to life again. “I’m going. Get out of my way or I will run you over.”

Meg didn’t move. “Where are you going?”

Angela started to answer but had to stop. She had no idea where she was supposed to end up only that she was going the right way.

“He’s been talking to you, hasn’t he? Whispers, dreams, suggestions?” Angela’s expression was enough of an answer for Meg. “Yeah, that’s right. I’m just here to help. And trust me, the first stop we need to make is in Arizona. Near the Grand Canyon.”

The silver voice didn’t say anything against it, and Angela suddenly knew she was on the right track. “Alright, fine. What’s there?”

Meg grinned again. “Some more friends.” She took her foot off the wheel. “You gonna let me ride, Cinderella?”

“Come on then.”

Meg slithered onto the bike behind Angela, pressed close. “Hmm, girl, we need to get you ready for the ball. But first we have to get to Arizona.”

The smell of sulfur didn’t fade, and there was something odd about the body pressed up behind her; the pulse wasn’t right for a human, or a transgenic. But Angela decided to ignore it. Something in her told her that Meg was alright, that she should trust her. The silver voice did not complain.

They roared off down the road, swerving to miss the body of the auburn haired angel. Angela swore she saw scorch marks on the pavement, but she was moving too fast by then to care.

*

“Alec, no. You can’t.” Max stood in the doorway of his bedroom, arms crossed and legs braced.

“Huh, really? I know you’re sort of the leader here, Max, but I also thought we were trying to stop the world from ending.” He balled up a shirt and tossed it into a blue duffle bag.

“I’m more concerned about our world ending, as in _this_ one, the one with transgenics! Ours!”

“Yeah, and from everything they’re saying our world’s gonna end a whole lot bloodier and faster if we don’t do anything. So I’m going. And if it means that as a bonus I’ll get my relatively dreamless sleep back at night, too, I’m okay with it.” He zipped up the duffle and slung it over his shoulder. Max didn’t move. “Would you mind?”

She didn’t move. “Come on, Alec. I need your help here. Who is going to keep the supply lines open? Who is going to make sure Josh has paint?”

Alec rolled his eyes. “My scroungers have a hierarchy to follow, and they all know their jobs. I already talked to Spruce, and he’s taking the lead to keep track of everything, and Dalton’s going to keep the teams organized. And Joshua _is_ actually a big boy, and he can take care of himself. Now will you move?”

She tried to glare at him, failed, and dropped her head and stepped out of the way. “What if you don’t stop this whole apocalypse thing?”

“Then you’re still here and will be able to get the Ordinaries and the transgenics to work together to beat it. I’d suggest having Logan start looking into ways to stop angels and demons, along with political policies.”

She followed him out of the apartment, through Command and out to the courtyard, where the Winchesters stood waiting by their car. She didn’t say another word, but Alec could feel her gaze boring into the back of his skull as she tried to will him to change his mind. It didn’t help the steady waves of fear and uncertainty that washed over him. He might have agreed to help, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t scared.

Alec had tried to keep the whole thing from going public, but with as small as the community was, it was difficult to do. Most didn’t know why he was leaving, but they knew he’d be gone. So there was a line of people waiting to wave goodbye or offer a handshake and a wish for good luck, along with a small crowd talking to the Winchesters and inspecting the car. Dean looked ready to take off heads, but Sam chatted easily with everyone around him, a genuine smile on his face. Standing next to him was Joshua. Alec grinned despite everything. Between the height and the hair and the expression of a well-loved Labrador, the two looked like they should have shared DNA.

Alec joined Dean at the driver’s door. “You sure I can’t take my bike and just follow you?”

Dean snorted. “Yeah right, and risk you getting snatched by some nasty the instant I look away from the rearview mirror?” He glanced at the duffle bag. “Toss that in the trunk with our stuff. But don’t poke around in there.”

“Why?” Alec couldn’t help but ask as Dean handed him the keys.

“My car, my rules.”

Before Alec could retort, Sam turned, rested his arms on the roof of the car and called, “You ready over there, Dean and Mini-Dean?”

“Christ, Sammy, don’t even say that out loud – with our luck you’ll activate some sort of curse or jinx or something and we _will_ have a mini-me running around.”

Alec grinned and tossed his duffle into the trunk and slammed it shut again. “I’m not a mini anything, I’m in fact genetically superior to both of you.” Without looking he tossed the keys. Dean grabbed them out of the air without thinking and just scowled Alec.

Sam’s eyebrows climbed towards his hair line and he sputtered out a surprised laugh as Dean just glared and tugged open the driver’s door. “Let’s go!”

Still struggling to recover a straight face, Sam turned and shook hands with Joshua. “When we get back, I’d like to see all of these paintings of yours.”

“Some are sold, but not all. Kept some of my favorites,” Joshua replied, head bent a little so his hair covered his face, apparently embarrassed by the interest.

“Alright then, we’ll have to talk art theory.” He turned to Max, who was still standing behind Alec, arms crossed and expression dark. “Max, tell Logan thanks again for all his help. And we’ll get Alec back in one piece.” He smiled at her and offered his hand.

She took it and said, “You better.”

He just smiled again, but it was wan and then he climbed into the car as well. It left Alec still on the outside. He sighed quietly and turned to face her.

“Seriously, Maxie, you don’t need to worry. I’m a big boy.”

She gnawed at her lower lip before bursting out. “I can’t let you go alone. Take Mole or someone, at least.”

“I’m not going alone,” he gestured to the car. “And besides, you’re going to need all hands on deck. I’m not taking anyone else along into this.” He reached out and squeezed her shoulder. “You’ll be fine Max.”

He stepped back and reached for the door handle again, but before he could turn fully, Max grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him into a short, rough hug. “You better come back. I’m not dealing with all of this by myself.”

“Okay.” He blinked a few times in surprise and then opened the door and slid into the back seat just in time to interrupt an argument between the brothers.

“Shut up.”

“I’m just saying, Sammy, that you two had a lot in common. He’s even more of a gigantor than you, the dog loving thing is probably in your DNA somewhere and just turned into reality…” he waved his hand, “and he’s even artsy-fartsy like you. But if your hair ever gets that long, I’m coming after you with a freaking chainsaw or something.”

“Dean, you’re an ass.”

Alec coughed quietly. “We going to Canada anytime soon?”

The brothers glanced back at him and Dean started the car. “Freaking Canada.”

Sam smirked. “You’re just jealous I had the better set up. House, money, hot wife…”

“Whatever. Shut up. At least my DNA clone bloodline kid is a guy, not a girl. The sooner we get out of this city the better.”

The car roared out of the courtyard, through the gate that Mole barely had time to open, and out into the streets, Dean flashing the high clearance passes at every sector check point they passed. In less than an hour they were out of the city and on the highway heading north.

The brothers continued to bicker and shoot barbs at each other, though they’d glance at the rear view mirror at Alec every few minutes. Whatever they were talking about went over his head a majority of the time; even after all the discussion of angels and demons, he had no idea what they meant about salting and burning bones, or chopping heads off bloodsuckers. Or, maybe he did actually have an idea; he just didn’t want to think about it. His life was weird enough without getting any further involved.

Dean turned on the radio, couldn’t get a decent signal, snarled and shoved a cassette tape into the deck. A warbling, somewhat British accented voice rose over the guitar notes.

“ _I’m gonna keep on ramblin’!_ ” Dean bellowed out with the radio.

Sam sighed and turned to glance at Alec. “Sorry. Dean doesn’t always remember he can’t actually sing.”

“I’ve sat through Joshua’s impromptu concerts. I can deal.”

Dean continued to bellow out the song, while Sam pulled out a map, worried that the roads might be different. Alec found as comfortable of a spot in the backseat as he could and settled in for the ride. Face tilted against the window, he watched the road roll by, traces of the city disappearing by the mile, turning to fields and small towns. Outside of Seattle, the world didn’t look as depressed and ruined, and the thought that the transgenics should set up camp someplace out in the country ran through his mind.

The music eventually changed to something softer and more ballad like, though the singer was the same. But the gentle sounds wove together with the soft roar of the engine. He felt his muscles relax and his mind slowed to a crawl, thoughts lulled by the monotony of the road.

 

_Oh dance in the dark of night, Sing to the morning light._

His eyes slid shut and slumber claimed him in slow grey waves. He wasn’t sure where the reality started and the dreams began. And for once, he didn’t care.

*

Angela rolled to a halt and stared at the entrance to the cemetery. It was old, the granite headstones weathered, crumbling, or toppled over. A simple fence of three strands of iron chain strung between five foot poles marked the boundary. A rickety iron gate stood in front of them.

“This is it? Why did you bring us here?” Angela demanded. She had followed Meg’s precise and often snarky directions without question tirelessly, and neither of them needed sleep; and that was another worrying element to Meg’s genetic makeup. There couldn’t possibly be anything here that was worth having or seeing. And since she had taken the hex bag from Meg, the silver in her mind – the voice of the Morningstar, Meg had called it - had faded to a background hum. She couldn’t be sure that she was going the right way or doing the right thing anymore, but it still felt right to listen to Meg. Even if she was an annoying little shit.

Meg swung off the bike, adjusted the satchel strap on her shoulder and patted Angela on the back. “I know it doesn’t look like much, but it has what we need.” She pointed. “Right there.”

Angela turned and followed the line of Meg’s finger. In the center of the cemetery there was a single large crypt of dark stone. Or it might have been a tiny chapel at one point. But the doors were closed, and a pentagram inside a circle enclosed the entire opening.

“I said we needed to get you ready for the ball. That’s where we start.” She walked to the gate and glanced back at Angela. “You coming sometime this week?”

With a snap, she put down the kickstand and left the bike. Meg grinned, but made no move to open the gate.

“Well?” Angela demanded. “What are you waiting for? Lead on, you’ve got all the answers here.”

Meg shrugged one shoulder. “Kinda got a metal allergy. Don’t really want to have a reaction to touching the gate.”

Angela rolled her eyes. “Then use your sleeve or something.” She fiddled with the latch for a moment and swung the gate open.

“Why, thank you, princess.”

Once past the gate, Meg wasted no time hurrying to the crypt, barely acknowledging the rows of graves she stepped on with her spiked heels. Angela followed with more care, skirting in between the rows of headstones. By the time she joined Meg at the doors, the satchel was open and a strange assortment of objects were spilled across the dirt.

“Okay princess, I need you to stay back there,” Meg pointed at a large headstone about ten feet from the door of the crypt. “This is delicate, and neither of us can afford to have it messed up.” She grabbed a glass jar, opened it, and dipped a black feather into it. The wind kicked up as she bent to paint a strange symbol across the door, blowing the scent of the jar straight into Angela’s nostrils.

She gasped. “Is that blood? What the hell are you doing?”

Meg paused, the feather pressed against the stone and lazy drops of red oozed down from the line she had just drawn. “Yes, it is blood. This is a spell, and I can’t be interrupted. So keep your oh so enlightening thoughts to yourself for a while, okay?”

Angela froze in terror. For a heartbeat, Meg’s eyes had turned completely black, spilling from the pupil outward until no hint of even white could be seen. “What are you?” she whispered.

“Honey, I’m awesome, but not as awesome as you will be,” Meg replied, her eyes returning to normal.

She drew sigils on and across the door, and then tossed aside the blood and feather for a chisel, which she attacked the metal pentagram with. A few sharp blows to get the blade under the ring of metal and then a tug to rip it away from the stone, and the circle was broken. A strange, twisting chant began syllables of Latin and a harsh language that Angela did not recognize filled the air. The wind increased again, a low roar to accompany Meg’s chanting. Arms raised and fingers spread, Meg stood in front of the crypt and bellowed one harsh word.

The wind died immediately, and Angela staggered from the abrupt change.

Meg half turned to look at Angela, an excited smirk on her face. She lifted her arms to the sky head tilted back and shouted one last phrase.

For another heartbeat, nothing happened. And then the crypt doors rattled. Then they boomed, as if something inside was struggling to get out. The ground started to shake, the doors began inching open. Angela felt the earth heave like a wave under her feet and she fell against a headstone. And the door of the crypt burst open.

A shock wave of power exploded out, and Angela ducked behind the granite slab just before it hit. She heard Meg’s laugh twisting up through the roar. A boiling cloud of black smoke rocketed out of the door, filling the air with darkness and a high pitched squeal of pain and power. It enveloped her, filling the entire cemetery. The stink of sulfur filled her nostrils and she gagged as it caught in her throat; she was being choked.

“NOT HER!” Meg bellowed. “DON’T YOU KNOW WHO SHE IS? WHY I GOT YOU OUT?”

Immediately the stink and pressure eased, and she got to her feet, panting and shaking.

“Sorry,” Meg said as she walked over to Angela and got a hand her elbow to steady her. “My friends just got a little excited. They haven’t been out in a while. Forgot their social skills.” Her eyes had turned black again; Angela looked away.

The heaving cloud of black smoke still filled the cemetery, roiling. Angela thought she could see individual snakes of black making up the mass, the long thin shapes twisting through the air, coiled with power and energy, but held back by something.

Meg jogged her elbow a little. “Remember when I said I had a metal allergy? Same thing goes for my buddies.”

“What? Oh.” Angela glanced back over her shoulder; the gate had blown shut during the tumult. The smoke coiled closer to her; small tendrils brushed across the backs of her hands, ran through her hair. “What is all of this?” she whispered.

“Well, if you’re Cinderella and the glass slipper, think of me as your fairy godmother. And all of my friends – the mice, birds, pumpkins and whatever – to get you ready for the ball and get you there.” She grinned. “So how about opening that door so we can get started?”

She was terrified. There was no explanation that she could even begin to fathom to explain Meg’s powers, her black eyes or the strange smoke. Yet there was something familiar to the whole thing. The waves of power, the high pitch squeal that echoed through the cemetery – all of it resonated like the silver voice. It wasn’t the same, but it was close enough. And every moment she stood surrounded by the waves of black, she could feel the power in her growing, the silver song howling in her veins.

“Okay,” she said finally. And she opened the gate.

The cloud rushed out, roaring past her, the reek of sulfur filling her nostrils and the crackle of energy rushing over her skin like electricity. Meg came up behind her and smiled.

“Good job. Now we better jump on our version of the pumpkin carriage and hurry to where our little helpers are getting things prepped for your ball gown.”

“You’re going to explain everything on the way there,” Angela said, finally locking eyes with Meg; they were no longer black, but they were bright and wild.

“Oh of course. Never worry, the Prince won’t make you do anything you don’t want to. You have to agree before he does anything. I just am here to make sure you look and feel your best before you meet him.”

*

As promised, Meg explained the situation on the road, between navigating them towards Flagstaff. But the explanation was far from enlightening.

“Listen, princess, you’re pretty damn special to begin with, what with your unique background, but you are going to need an extra boost before saying hello to the Prince. Think of it as your vitamins. My friends are going to help, but they need some…specific supplies as well.”

They rolled into a little flyspeck of a town about an hour later, the kind that had appeared after the Pulse, when people didn’t want to live alone in the country or packed into the cities and thus had banded together into small communities. Angela was still puzzling over exactly what the hell Meg had meant, when they came to the road block. It was hardly surprising – the small towns were just as guarded as the larger cities. The two men leering at them from behind the barrier were also not surprising. Angela got that a lot, especially in the small towns; it had been one of the reasons she had locked herself away when Steven and Johnny had left. Not that she couldn’t have handled the threat; she just didn’t want to deal with the attention.

“Hey there pretty ladies,” one of them said, and his buddy chuckled.

Then their eyes flashed black.

“Boys,” Meg said as she got off the bike. “We got everything ready?”

“Yep. The volunteers are over in the diner, getting everything prepped,” the first man said, his eyes turning back to their original brown. He opened the barrier.

As Meg and Angela walked through, the second man asked, “Isn’t the stuff better fresh, straight from the source? You know, got the best kick?”

“That’s with everything, jackass. And it’s still gonna be fresh. But we don’t really want to overwhelm on the first date, you know? Come on, princess.”

Meg led the way to the diner the men had mentioned. Inside, it was quiet and still, with only a handful of patrons scattered throughout. The smell of sulfur hung heavy in the air, and Angela wrinkled her nose.

“What’s wrong princess?” Meg asked with a grin as she plopped down in a booth and gestured Angela to take the opposite side.

“Nothing,” she replied, sitting down cautiously.

A waitress appeared and smiled. “What can I get you ladies?” she asked. Her name tag read Britt.

“I’m fine, but princess here will have the _special_ ,” Meg replied.

Britt grinned at Angela. “Coming right up.”

“That’s one of my friends. Damn good cook, of sorts,” Meg said.

Angela just nodded. The whole situation continued to be stranger than she wanted to admit. Yet she couldn’t extract herself. The silver hum continued somewhere between her mind and her blood, and after the months of solitude and her years at Manticore, the sense of reverence and plain excitement that she sensed from Meg and her cohorts was pleasant.

Britt reappeared with a vegetarian omelet and a tall chocolate shake. The sulfur smell only increased and Angela eyed the food nervously. She had a pretty strong digestive system, but she didn’t want to have to deal with getting sick off of bad eggs.

“If you’re not hungry, go for the shake. It’s got the vitamins I was talking about. Pretty damn filling by itself, I’ve heard.” Meg winked up at Britt.

“It’s excellent – my own special recipe,” Britt added.

She nodded in return, and saw a spot of red on Britt’s white sleeve. “You’ve got something on your arm.”

Britt glanced down and then laughed dismissively. “Oh, yeah, cut myself earlier. Must be bleeding through the bandage. But go ahead, try the shake, let me know what you think.”

Of the two options, the shake did seem to be the lesser of two evils. She picked up the glass and raised it to Meg and Britt. “Cheers.”

It was thick and somehow more bitter than sweet on her tongue. Yet as soon as the first drop hit her mouth, she couldn’t stop drinking. With every gulp, the desire for more surged through her, and a low hum filled her ears. It was like the silver voice, but lower, darker, all edged in red and black. It was beautiful in a completely different way than the silver voice had been. It pulled out the animalistic side of her, the side that had been funneled into being a solider, and the side that she had to hide when she play acted human. It was her power, her own personal power.

She licked up the last drop off the rim of the glass and set it down so hard it cracked up the side. Her head was swimming with the waves of power, limbs screaming to move, blood burning for the hunt, for prey. She sprang to her feet, lips lifting in a snarl and a growl bubbling out of her chest. The quiet little diner fell silent; waves of fear and excitement radiated out from the patrons. The snarl turned to a smirk.

“Let’s play a game,” she said. “You run, I chase. Whoever gets left behind, I eat. I’ll even give you a head start. Ready, set, GO!”

Pandemonium broke out in the diner. Screams and, strangely cheers, filled the air. People scrambled out of booths and over tables and raced for the door. Angela let them get outside and start scattering across the streets before she blurred to the door after them. The sulfur smell that had turned her stomach just minutes before now burned in her nostrils like a drug, and she raced after those who carried that scent.

Meg got out of the booth and walked to the door but didn’t open it. Britt joined her. Screams from the street worked their way through the glass.

“Is… its it supposed to do that?” Britt asked, her eyes flashing black.

Meg raised a shoulder, head cocked to one side as she walked Angela blur up to one demon, kick out the man’s knee, and then attack his throat with her teeth as he fell. “I wasn’t around to see Sammy Winchester get hopped up on the blood, but I heard stories. But I don’t think he ever went this nuts even at his worst. He’s methodical, and had a hell of a stubborn streak to keep him on what he thought was the right path. This girl, though… when I say she’s an animal, I don’t mean that metaphorically.” She shrugged again and grinned. “Just means she’ll be ready sooner, and we can see our father again.”

Out on the street, Angela straightened, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. Blood coated her face and dripped down her neck. It left a blossom of scarlet on the high collar of her white shirt. She glanced back at the diner, grinned, and raced off down the street again, looking for all the world like a panther on the hunt.

“I like this girl,” Meg said. “A bit messy for my taste, but damn, she’s got some moves.”


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](http://s282.photobucket.com/user/RHldy/media/Gift%20Icons/Big%20Bang%20Art/ANLBanner3-Ceares_zpsdfb14d6a.png.html)

 

**Chapter Three**

  
There were numerous ways to hold long distance communication. There had always been letter writing, which in recent years had been replaced by email. Telegraphs had been replaced by radios. And then there had been the evolution of the telephone, allowing instant conversations with the cellphones allowing even more ease than before possible. And there was always the version of telepathy that angels used, manipulating sound waves in a manner that most human minds would not contemplate for many generations yet. The method that Dean had dubbed ‘Angel Radio’.

But when communication on a different plane – from Earth to Heaven, or Earth to Hell, there were more physical and spell bound methods. The Goblet of Blood was incredibly effective, even while communicating between alternate realities, if the brother’s accounts of what had happened with Virgil were accurate. While Castiel had never tried the method himself, he knew of it and its effectiveness. But while he had stooped to levels he had never considered before – he was working with Crowley, afterall – he wasn’t willing to bleed an innocent to fill a cup in order to speak to someone in another plane of reality.

There were other methods.

So Castiel stood in an abandoned house somewhere in Wyoming. There were only a few ingredients that he needed, and he found them all without a struggle. He set the bowl of water down on the counter and blew a soft breath across the surface. The small ripples across the surface stilled immediately. With his fingers just above the water, he chanted out the Latin spell, memorized but never used before. Soft rays of silver blue light fell from his fingertips to the water as he channeled a minute amount of his grace into the spell to create the connection. The water turned as silver as a mirror, wavered, and then stilled again. The surface took on a rather amber hue. He shifted his hands to the sides of the bowl.

And got a rather unflattering view of the interior of Crowley’s nostrils from below.

“Crowley, we have to talk,” he said sharply.

The demon jumped and the mirror shook and wavered before Crowley settled and peered down, squinting. “Castiel. Either I’ve managed to get drunk enough that I’m seeing things, or you’re scrying through my Craig.”

“I did manage to create a connection through the water in this plane, and the nearest water related source to you. It would seem that your whisky was that.”

Crowley raised his eyebrows and nodded. “Water of life, and all that,” he agreed. “But what did you want, Feathers?”

“There are demons in this plane. You said you’d keep a tight rein on your forces and not allow them here.” Castiel forced himself to remain still and not shake the bowl and ruin the connection.

All he got was a shrug. “What can I say, there are some very determined supporters of Lucifer out there. And their current general is that little bitch Meg.”

“You said you’d keep demons out of this reality,” he repeated, voice rising in frustration. “How did she even open the hellgate?”

“Ask your angel buddies. They are the ones with that kind mojo. You know demons – manipulative, clever, resourceful, and good looking. Now, if you’re done, I do have business to conduct. My investigations into Purgatory are still moving, and as King of Hell, my calendar is full. Ta-ta, chum.”

“You’re not going to be King of Hell much longer if the Apocalypse starts again and Lucifer gets free!”

“Yes, yes, we’ve discussed this, that’s why you’re there doing your thing. So get back to work.” The image in the water wavered and disappeared as Crowley lifted the glass to his mouth.

“Crowley!” Castiel bellowed, but it was too late. The connection was broken, and he was staring down at a bowl of water once again.

He took a deep breath and refrained from hurling the bowl across the room. His self-control had to rise above his anger and frustration. And besides which, he needed to contact Balthazar. If a spell to open hellgates had been leaked to the demons, there would be very little to stop them from gaining the upper hand this reality’s Apocalypse.

Fingers over the water again, he started chanting.

 

*

  
Road trips promised a freedom and relaxation that TC could have never offered. Where the problem arose was that while the car may be flying down the blacktop, all free and fast, the passengers weren’t. Technically they were, but they were also locked inside a little steel box with very few entertainment sources.

Alec was sure he was going to go insane.

Dean’s music was hardly something he would have ever listened to by choice – though he couldn’t have actually named any bands or genres in particular that he liked – and the older man demanded on playing it as loud as possible. If the music wasn’t cranked all the way up to where it rattled the windows and threatened to ruin Alec’s sensitive hearing, he was arguing with Sam.

First he had complained about the whole situation they were in. He raged about the fact that it should have only taken five hours to get to their destination, but thanks to check points in every town, it was pushing a full day’s driving. Then he disagreed with Sam’s navigation skills, and only relented when Sam demanded a trade in tasks. That was when Alec started to question the idea that they were even speaking English. Even when they weren’t discussing hunting monsters, they spoke in code. It became obvious they had spent the vast majority of their lives together, and were brothers, coworkers and comrades in arms all wrapped in one. Hunting terminology mingled with mythology and military jargon. It was confusing as all hell at first, but after almost a day in the car with them, he was sure he had the code mostly cracked.

Nevertheless, he was mostly content to stay in the background and not interrupt them. For the most part. There was only so much entertainment to be had in the back seat of a car, after all. It was also a good position to toss the occasional barb at them without fear of much retribution.

“Yeah, no way Sam and Joshua are related, despite the obvious similarities. Not with Sam eating that much salad – Josh’s favorite food is macaroni and little hot dogs. And how the hell did you get so big on that diet?”

“Protein shakes,” Sam replied, not even bothering to turn his head, attention focused on the collections of maps he’d acquired at various gas stops.

He didn’t rise to the bait as easily as Dean, so Alec turned his attention that way. “Hey old man, how’s the gas gauge looking? Told you the bike was a better idea – way more efficient.”

Dean didn’t turn and look, but Alec could hear the snarl. He smirked a little and decided to see how far he could push the issue. Max had been pretty crazy about her Ninja, from stories Original Cindy had told, and still was despite the fact that she was fighting to save the world in her own way. Dean was the only person he’d ever met with more of an emotional connection to a machine that wasn’t a part of his body, and he was going run that until he couldn’t

“And how do you manage not to go insane on all these road trips. You just sit and drive and are surrounded by steel, trapped in, can’t properly move. And this boat is so big, you probably don’t even bother to move when smaller things come at you, you just crush them.” Dean wasn’t visibly reacting further, so he kept going, the words pouring out of his mouth. “And honestly, there is no reason for a car like this. It sticks out – you can’t tell me it doesn’t stick out even where and when you’re from – and that can’t be helpful when you’re keeping a low profile. It’s insanity. And asinine. You’re looking to cause trouble, to create failure for yourself. Just like this whole trip. This whole plan to stop the world from ending. You did it once, sure, but who says it’s going to work again? You are just _humans_.”

He said the words, but there was also a part of him that knew _he_ hadn’t said the words. A sharp ache filled his head until his eyes blurred. He blinked and saw both brothers turned and looking at him. The car wasn’t moving any longer, though the engine still rumbled; Dean had pulled over.

“Sorry,” he pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t know where that came from.”

Dean flicked an eyebrow up. “I can guess. Must be doing something right, if Michael’s getting pissed.” He turned back around and glanced at the fuel gauge. “I’m going to top off the tank at the next town, and we should be good to get to Angela’s place and still have some for a getaway if we need it.”

“Cool,” Alec said, slumping back in his seat. He desperately wanted to return to the issue of boredom; he’d almost forgotten about the whole angel problem for a few hours.

Sam remained half turned, so he could keep an eye on both his brother and Alec. “Do you think we should put together a hex bag for him? Might help keep angels and demons away.”

Dean shrugged with one shoulder. “He’s got the rib scribbles, that’ll keep the angels away. Wouldn’t hurt for the demons though.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at Alec, who was looking despondently out of the window. “Not sure what to do about the dream and brain invasion stuff; you still saw Lucifer with them.”

Sam shook his head and frowned. “I’m still surprised at Michael doing it this way; it seems out of his MO.”

“Dude was the VIP of Heaven last time. Now he’s stuck in the Cage and desperate. And did you meet him? Dude’s a dick. And he’s probably racing with Luci to get a meat suit and get out again.”

“Can you please stop referring to me as a meat suit or some other inanimate object?” Alec’s voice was thin and cold.

The brother’s glanced back at him, but he resolutely stared out the window at the Canadian landscape.

“I’m sorry, Alec,” Sam said. “It’s a bad habit, it’s-”

“What, easier pretending that there aren’t real people involved or something?” He looked away from the window and met Sam’s contrite gaze. “Easier to make those big decisions, send soldiers into the meat grinder if they aren’t real people? Jesus.”

Sam had the grace to look away first, and Alec saw Dean’s shoulders flinch and hunch with guilt. He sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. “Sorry, guys, I-”

“No, don’t apologize,” Sam replied. “We have lost that sense, that there are real people involved here.”

“Just because I’m not human, doesn’t mean I’m not real,” Alec said quietly.

The brothers glanced at each other, expressions unreadable. “We know that, Alec,” Sam said quietly.

“Yeah, well, don’t forget it. I just got to the point where I could believe it myself.”

The car slowed and Dean pulled into a gas station. “Last stop before we meet Angela. Everybody fuel up.”

While Dean gassed up the car, Sam and Alec went into the small convenience store. Sam wandered down the aisles, looking at the limited selection of protein bars while he grabbed a bag of beef jerky and a few candy bars. Alec snatched up a bag of chocolate covered peanuts and some pork rinds and went up to the counter. A TV was on the back wall, playing some news report on mute. Alec glanced at it – just in case something big had happened in TC and he hadn’t been contacted for some reason – and froze.

The subtitle screamed: MASS MURDER NEAR FLAGSTAFF.

The images flashing across the screen showed people running through the streets, screaming, the bloody aftermath of the dead, broken and bleeding. Sobbing faces of survivors and interviewees appeared and disappeared intercut with images of the scene once again. The scene cut again, and a grainy, black and white clip from a security camera appeared. It showed several people running down the street, when a woman with long dark hair appeared out of now where, and attacked a man in the middle of the small group. She leapt over the other two people, landed on the man’s back like a panther, and drove him to the ground. The angle of the camera made it impossible to see exactly what she was doing, but when she stood and shook back her hair, she turned towards the camera. Her face was stained dark with blood.

“Max,” he whispered, while at the same instant he realized that it couldn’t be her. It had to be Angela.

“Oh shit,” Sam breathed as he came up behind him.

The little bell over the door chimed as Dean walked in and Sam sprang into action. “Pay for the gas, quick. We’re going to Arizona.”

“What? Why?” Dean demanded, but then stopped as the TV caught his attention. “Fuck. That Angela?”

“No one else it could be,” Sam agreed. “But if that news is rolling now, we need to move.”

“To where? She’s gonna be gone by now, and we don’t exactly have an idea where she’s going.”

“My best bet would be a Hellgate. Pop one of those open, get the access to Hell, get a way for Michael and Lucifer to get out…”

“But where?” Dean demanded. “There can’t be that many Hellgates. And we don’t have the Colt anymore to open that one in Wyoming.”

Sam slashed a hand through the air. “We’ll get the details as we go. But we’re not doing any good by staying in fucking Canada.”

Dean’s eyebrows flicked up at his brother’s intensity. “I’ll call Cas on the way,” he said; he pulled out his wallet and tossed some bills at the cashier.

They hurried towards the door, and Dean was already outside before they realized they were missing something.

Sam stopped quickly and turned. “Alec, come on!”

The younger man hadn’t moved, eyes locked on the screen, hand crushing the bags of snacks so the plastic was breaking. He had lost all color in his face. Sam reached out and jogged his elbow and quickly stepped back. Alec flinched and started like a spooked horse. His eyes were wide, breath hitching and uneven.

“Come on, Alec, we need to go.”

He nodded and hurried outside, slipping inside the Impala and cramming himself in a corner, like a small child or an animal seeking shelter against terrors of the world. The brothers hurried after, and the Impala roared to life and flew back down the highway towards America.

The cashier rushed out of the store in time to see the plume of exhaust and burnt rubber as the car flew away. “Hey! This is American money! I can’t take this!”

But the car was already gone.

 

*

  
“I sincerely hope I did not catch you at an inopportune time, brother,” Castiel said, though his tone suggested anything but sincerity.

Balthazar looked down at his glass of bourbon. “Well, well, you’re playing with old toys today, aren’t you, Cassie?”

Castiel bit back a sharp retort about the use of nicknames, and took a deep breath through his nose. “Balthazar, there are demons in this timeline now. I need to know what happened.”

“Do I look like someone who consorts with that kind of filth? Granted, they usually know how to have a better time than even a majority of humans, but I still have some sort of standard.”

Castiel restrained a guilty flinch at that, and pressed on. “But you also have access to the weapons cache of Heaven, and that is where such spells would be kept, correct? And you would know if something had happened to that particular supply, and if any demons had been seen in the area.”

Balthazar shrugged. “If by access you mean I used to work there under Virgil, and stole as much of it as I could when I left, but still have a few friends there, then yes.”

“Quit playing with me, and just tell me!” Castiel snapped.

“You have been spending too much time with the Winchesters, it would seem, Cas. You used to be so much more patient.” But before Castiel could respond, he sighed and continued. “You beat me to the punch – I was just going to contact you with the news. Ruth, one of my contacts who has access to the weapons, has gone missing. Along with a version of the spell you used. This one is nasty, though.”

“How so?”

“It requires the blood of an angel as the last component.” Balthazar grimaced and then looked away. “I have strong feeling that whoever took the spell also took Ruth, and that no one will be seeing her again.” He started to lift the glass to his lips, but stopped in time. “Sorry. Was going to drink to her memory, but I’ll wait.”

“Don’t wait too long. I am going to sort this out, and deal with this insanity from this end. You stay there, and make sure nothing else goes missing.”

Balthazar frowned. “Why so snippy, Cas? You do realize that basically everyone in Heaven thinks I am dead or at least MIA, and that I can’t just go around openly? But if you need help, I’ll come over there.”

Castiel shook his head firmly. “No. I can manage here on my own. The Winchesters are obviously working towards the same goal.”

“And you trust the humans over your own brother?” Balthazar scoffed. He rolled his eyes and looked away.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you, Balthazar-” Castiel began, but he was interrupted.

“It’s what? That you trust the Winchesters more? That you want to take the glory or credit?” He squinted. “Or is it that you don’t trust me?”

“No, none of that, Balthazar, I trust you,” Cas replied. “I just can’t risk any other demons getting through. If they manage to open a Hellgate, the results will be catastrophic.”

“Yes, yes, I understand. But I don’t like you suggesting that you don’t trust me or don’t think I’m doing my part in this endeavor correctly. I came out of hiding in a beautiful, debauchery filled life for you and your cause. Don’t make me regret it. So I will be here, even more diligent about the goings on of both angel and demon as far as I can reach.”

“Thank you Balthazar.”

He rolled his eyes. “Yes, yes. Now can I drink my bourbon?”

Castiel shook the bowl a little, and the image of Balthazar wavered and broke, leaving his own wavering reflection staring back at him. With a frustrated sigh, he tipped the water down the sink and put the bowl back on the counter. But even as he did so, a ripple of power brushed against his Grace. A foul breath followed it, reeking of sulfur and blood.

“No,” he breathed. “How could they have done it this soon?” With a rush of wings he disappeared.

 

  
*

  
Angela woke slowly. Her senses ticked into place one by one. Touch - soft but scratchy and warm surrounded her, enveloped her. Smell- smoke and dust and mildew, coffee, and something sour, pungent. Hearing - the soft noise of traffic outdoors, the rattle of an old air conditioner, someone’s steady breathing on the other side of the room. Taste – a sour tang in her mouth. A coppery taste. Blood.

She gasped and sat up, blinking the rest of the way to awareness. A dingy motel room swam into focus, the strips of light fighting their way through heavy curtains declaring it was well into the day. Meg sat across the room, chair tipped up on two legs, boots on the table. She grinned as Angela met her gaze.

“Morning, sunshine. Sleep well?” The chair thumped down on the floor, and she picked up one of the coffee cups on the table and held it out like an offering.

Angela scrubbed a hand through her hair and sat up the rest of the way. “What time is it?”

“Almost noon of tomorrow, from when you fell asleep.” The cup waved even closer.

She frowned and took the coffee. It was very unusual for her to sleep that long. “I don’t really remember anything…” she took a sip of the coffee. It was hot and black and bitter. But it ran straight into her blood system, and she could feel her nerves start to sing with energy. “Wait. I do. I remember the hunt.” A smirk flicked across her face, and she felt her muscles tense and release, ready to spring into action.

Meg’s grin grew a little. “Yeah, that was impressive. Ready for more?”

The coffee burned a little on her tongue and throat, but she couldn’t stop drinking it. She paused long enough to say, “Hell yeah. If it gets me closer to that prince of yours, let’s go hunting.”

“That’s my girl.” Meg stood and stretched.

The last of the coffee disappeared and she looked at the empty cup in frustration. “What’s in this, it’s fantastic.”

“Come on, you did all that hunting, and you’re still asking that question? Want more?” A second cup was offered.

Angela snatched it up and drained the now lukewarm contents in three long gulps. This wasn’t coffee, it was straight demon blood. The world compressed and expanded around her at the same time. Her hearing sharpened to the point where she could hear Meg’s even pulse from across the room, but the sound of a squirrel chewing on a twig in the motel’s only tree was also audible. Every layer of grime and dust became clear to her nose, and she could smell the pungent tang of a dumpster around the corner.

The world was hers for the taking – she had that power. And she would soon would have more.

She slipped out of the bed and stepped into her boots, lacing them up with blurring fingers. It was relatively warm out, especially compared to Canada, so she opted out of her high collared white shirt – which was also stained from her activities of the day before – and went with a dark tank top.

The weight of Meg’s gaze settled on the barcode, but she didn’t say anything about it. She just opened the door and grinned. “Come on, Princess, we have a few hours to drive before any hunting gets done.”

 

*

  
They drove until they couldn’t that night. Out of Canada and across the border, and down to Arizona. Tensions ran high. There was no music, and the only conversation revolved around how they could get to the Hellgate faster, and what they would do once they got there.

“I know they’re genetically enhanced, but fuck, did you see how fast she moved?” Dean said at one point.

“We’ve hunted windigos, they move just as fast,” Sam replied, taking the flashlight out of his mouth. There were maps spread across his lap and he focused the light across them again as he marked down possible locations of Hellgates and other spots of potential power.

“Okay, fine, but why the hell was she attacking people that way-”

“Animal DNA,” Alec said, speaking for the first time in hours. “That’s what genetically enhanced means. There’s a lot of feline DNA in the X-5’s.”

Dean flicked his gaze up to the rearview mirror, but Alec was just a vague shadow in the backseat. “Do you guys flip a switch like that often?”

“Of course not!” he snapped in reply. “Just because we have animal DNA doesn’t mean that we’re animals.” He paused. “Though the X-5 females do go into heat, but that’s something else.”

“Whoa,” Dean muttered, his voice suddenly husky.

At the same time, Sam said, “That can’t be fun for them.”

“Anyway,” Alec said loudly. “No, we typically don’t go running around, chomping people’s necks and drinking blood like a vampire or something.”

Sam’s head snapped up. “Oh my God, she’s drinking demon blood. That’s what that was.”

“Since when did demons get over here?” Dean asked.

“I don’t know. I mean, if the angels could be here, so can the demons. And they got her to start drinking the blood. Maybe it triggered a sort of primal response in her, focused on that part of her power. I mean, it is supposed to strengthen the vessel. And does.” Sam’s voice had become strained, and he cleared his throat before turning to his maps again.

“Personal experience?” Alec wondered.

Sam nodded once and cleared his throat. “It’s not the highest point of my life.”

There were a few beats of silence, with a heavy weight passing through a glance between the brothers. Alec was sure they were mildly telepathic with each other.

“Great. This situation just keeps getting better and better.” Dean’s foot pressed down on the accelerator and the car barreled down the highway.

No one had been able to rest while in the car, so there was no one to take over driving once Dean’s eyes started to cross with exhaustion. When the first motel with vacancy appeared, he pulled over. Despite the fact that it was nearly two in the morning, Sam managed to get a room with two beds and a couch in less than ten minutes, and they were settling down to sleep in less than five.

Alec didn’t even complain about being relegated to the couch by default - the brothers had automatically taken the beds, with Dean closest to the door. He had worn himself out with worry and constructing situations in his head, which was unusual. But he couldn’t help but worry that the news story would spread, and Max’s face would be connected with the killings, and what that would mean for TC.

“Four hours, and then we’re back on the road.” Deans’s muffled voice said. He had his face buried in a pillow, not even bothering to take off his boots or pull down the covers.

Sam rolled his eyes slightly, kicked off his own boots and slid under the blankets. Alec followed Dean’s example, and settled on the lumpy couch, his jacket as a pillow. It wasn’t long before the only sound in the room was quiet breathing.

Three and a half hours into the night, Dean twitched awake to the sound of an unfamiliar voice. He blinked and reached for the gun he’d shoved under his pillow, but paused; the voice was Alec’s. The gun stayed where it was, but he sat up. Alec was invisible on the couch except for his feet, which stuck out over the end. However, he was very audible; uneven breaths mingled with whispered pleas. Dean had lived through enough nights of listening to Sam’s nightmare’s to recognize one. He slipped out of bed and made his way across the room.

“D’n?” Sam asked as he sat up, less than half awake.

“Yeah, Sammy, relax. The kid’s having a nightmare.”

He was almost at the couch when Alec screamed. He recoiled in surprise.

“ _Rachel! No!_ ” Alec sat upright, gasping. Wild eyes darted from Dean to Sam and back before comprehension sank in. But the fear didn’t dissipate. “He _can’t_ do that. Tell me he _can’t do that_.”

“Do what?” Sam asked.

“Who?” Dean echoed.

The fear in Alec’s eyes was quickly replaced by rage. “Michael, assholes. Tell me he can’t do anything to Rachel.” He dropped his head into his hands. “Fuck. I did enough to that poor girl, tell me he can’t do that to her because of me.”

“What did he say?” Sam asked. He got out of bed and crossed to stand next to Dean, his face creased in concern and empathy.

Alec took a long, shaky breath, head still bowed. After a moment he looked up, face pale and stricken. “I didn’t even believe in an afterlife until now. I as good as killed her once. If someone’s going to do that to her again, I’m out. I’m not going any further.”

In the shocked silence that followed, Alec snatched up his jacket and stormed outside. The door slammed shut, rattled in its frame and settled just slightly ajar.

“Well…” Sam started, sighed, and ran a hand through his hair.

“We may as well hit the road again, we’re all up,” Dean said. “I’ll pack, you go talk to the kid.”

“Why me? He’s your clone.”

“Yeah, but you do all the touchy feely things.” He gestured to the door. “Go on, before he rabbits.”

Sam slipped on his boots and went outside. The dim light of a distant street light showed Alec just outside the door by the Impala, hands braced against the hood, head bowed. Without a word, Sam stepped next to him and leaned against the side panel, facing out towards the highway, close but still respecting Alec’s space; inside the room, he could hear Dean shuffling around, purposely making more noise than needed to collect their few things. After a few moments he asked, “Who’s Rachel?”

Alec sighed quietly and turned around, mimicking Sam’s stance. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Yes, it does,” Sam countered. “She’s obviously someone important to you. And even if we’re not from the same world as you, really, you’ve become an honorary Winchester.”

“Which means that the universe wants to screw me over even more than it did before?” When Sam winced a little, Alec continued, “I was listening to you two in the car. Sounds like being a Winchester isn’t that great. You sure you want to comfort me with that?”

“Point taken.” Sam shook his head and looked at nothing on the highway. “It sucks, but it also means you have friends and family on your side.”

A snort was the only reply.

“Rachel…” Alec began, hesitated, and then continued, “One of my missions for Manticore was to gather intel and then eliminate a target. His name was Robert Berrisford. I was under cover as a piano instructor for his seventeen year old daughter.”

“Rachel,” Sam said quietly. He watched Alec out of the corner of his eye.

He nodded. “They told me to exploit her feelings towards me. So I did. Problem was, I stopped pretending. It was real. And then I had to kill both of them.”

His voice quavered and Sam stayed very still. While Dean had been the most vocal about how strange it was to see a younger version of himself, Sam found it equally disconcerting. As he spoke, Alec’s voice echoed the same tones Dean’s voice had when confessing his trials and failures in Hell. It hurt.

“I couldn’t do it.” Alec took a deep breath. “I tried to warn Rachel, I wasn’t going to trigger the bomb on the car, but Manitcore had a backup plan. Robert lived, but Rachel went into a coma. She died recently.”

Inside the motel room, Dean had stopped moving. Sam knew he was listening, and Alec undoubtedly knew as well. But he continued.

“And here, I’d finally moved on, said my goodbyes, and thought she’d be at some sort of peace… and this asshole Michael shows up in my head. Says that yeah, Rachel’s in Heaven. Says that she’s at peace, but that isn’t guaranteed. That he could get to her. To make her Heaven a Hell.” He glanced up at Sam. “I can’t do that to her.”

Sam took a careful breath. The more disarmed Alec became, the more the shields of humor and cockiness were ripped away, until Sam started having flashbacks to moments when Dean’s shields slipped away. It made his head spin and his heart hurt. But Alec was not Dean, so maybe he’d be able to talk him through this more than he’d ever been able to do with his older brother.

“Listen, man, Rachel isn’t your fault. You said that you didn’t pull the trigger; that you weren’t going to.”

Alec snorted and shook his head. “End result is the same.”

“Maybe. But you can’t carry that sort of guilt around. Trust me. My girlfriend died because of me, and not a day goes by where I don’t think of that, but I also know that there’s a hell of a lot that needs to be done in the here and now. People who need you now.” His gaze flicked over to the door. “And you don’t want to let them down, not after everything they’ve done for you.”

“We still talking about me here?”

“Yes.” Sam turned to face Alec. “Everyone in Terminal City. I saw the way everyone was out there saying good bye to you when we left. I saw how much Max trusted you on every level. Hell, did you see how nervous and scared Joshua was for you?”

“You sure he just didn’t tell you that outright? Joshua’s good about vomiting emotions most of the time. Doesn’t have the same filters as everyone.” He turned and squinted at Sam, a half grin starting on his face. “Is that why Dean sent you out here, even if I’m his clone?” At Sam’s frustrated expression, he chuckled and tapped one ear. “Transgenic hearing. It’s a perk.”

“Yeah, fine, whatever. But seriously Alec. I don’t think Michael has the power to swing hurting Rachel. She’s in Heaven and he’s locked in the Cage in Hell. He can get into your brain because you’re linked through the bloodline. He can’t contact anyone else. Yet. If we don’t stop this, Rachel and everyone in TC, everyone you’ve ever cared about or has cared about you, is going to be in a world of hurt. And if you have even the tiniest sliver of what makes my brother who he is, you’re not going to let that happen. Because you don’t let the world mess with your family.”

“That was actually really motivational, not what I expected. Not as much estrogen as I would have guessed.”

Sam groaned. “You two are from the same mold. Christ.”

“Dean, you can stop eavesdropping, let’s hit the road,” Alec called to the slightly open door.

The door opened and Dean stepped out, duffle bags in hand. “I wasn’t eavesdropping,” he muttered back.

“Don’t lie, it’s not becoming.” Alec clambered into the backseat. “Well? We going? Or do I have to drive?”

Dean threw the duffles in trunk. “No way in hell are you driving my car.”

“Why not? I mean, I’m practically you. DNA, looks, all that. With added abilities, like superior strength, stamina and almost literally cat like reflexes.”

From the passenger seat, Sam cackled.

“Shut up, both of you.”

Several hours, Sam and Alec had both drifted back asleep, leaving Dean with the familiar symphony of his baby’s engine and Sam’s quiet snores. The quiet sounds of Alec’s breath didn’t detract at all, and it was somewhat worrying how normal it sounded. He had a brief moment of wondering if this is what the car had sounded like years ago, when his Dad had been behind the wheel and he and Sam had been asleep between hunts.

Dean’s cellphone rang. Sam twitched awake, and Alec sat up.

“Cas?” Sam wondered, rubbing at his cheek where it had been pressed against the window.

“Has to be, who else would be calling me in this dimension?” Dean muttered, lifting the phone to his ear. “Cas? What’s going on?”

“Am I the only one who finds it amusing that I have angels invading my dreams, but this one has to use a cellphone to call you two?”

“Son of a bitch! And where are they going now? Wait, why don’t we just meet you there? What? Okay, Cas, we’ll do it your way. Cas? Cas! Fuck.” Dean shoved the phone back in his pocket.

“What?” Sam demanded.

“We were right about Angela drinking demon blood. She opened that Hellgate in Phoenix. Cas’s buddies couldn’t keep a lid on some spells, and the demons got through. And guess who’s building a nice little army to welcome Lucifer back? Meg.”

“ _Meg?_ ” Sam yelped. “She’s back?”

Dean grimaced. “Yeah, uh, she’s been back a while…but I didn’t know she still had a hard on for Lucifer.”

“She’s not the leader type, either, more opportunistic,” Sam argued. “Think she’s possessing Angela?”

“Would make it hard to give her over to Lucifer when he shows up,” Dean replied. “We’ll deal with that when we get closer.”

“Where are we going now?” Alec asked.

“Death Valley.”

Alec huffed a quiet sigh and leaned back again. “How appropriate.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

 

[ ](http://s282.photobucket.com/user/RHldy/media/Gift%20Icons/Big%20Bang%20Art/ANLBanner2-Ceares_zpsee20fa3e.png.html)

**Chapter Four**

  
She let her boot scrape along the asphalt as the bike rolled to a stop. Behind her was nothing but failure and loss but there was nothing but triumph before her, the desert stretching out like a vast road to victory. In less than a day, she’d succeed on her mission. The Hellgate would be opened, the Cage broken, and that beautiful silver light would become one with her. She would be with the Morningstar and never be alone again. Her lips lifted in a feral grin; she tasted road dust and blood.

“What are you waiting for, Princess?” Meg asked from her perch on the back of the bike.

Angela glanced back. Aside from Meg, there was a small army of vehicles. More motorcycles, trucks, cars and vans. All filled with people who were sworn to follow her and the Morningstar. They were people who smelled of copper and sulfur, with eyes that flashed black, and who fed her with blood. When Meg had called for loyal supporters of Lucifer, they had come, ready to see their Father on the throne again, and the usurper Crowley disposed of forever. As Angela lead them closer to the Hellgate, they willingly opened their veins and poured out blood into bowls and bottles and glasses.

And Angela drank it all.

She wasn’t hungry or thirsty anymore; the demon blood filled her more than any meal had ever done, made her drunk with power in the way that alcohol had never been able to do. She knew she had consumed gallons in the short time it took to trek from Phoenix to California. Meg would stand to one side and shake her head whenever Angela would come up for air after a long drink.

“Man, it’s a good thing I thought to send out invites to all my friends for this little road trip. You would have drained me dry.”

Angela didn’t even bother to look apologetic. “You said I had to drink as much as I could to be strong, right? And it’s not like I’m holding a knife to anyone’s throat to have them offer. They’re the ones with the knives!”

The desert wind blew hot and strong against her face as she let the grin spread. She lifted an arm to the line of vehicles behind her and waved it forward. Then, with Meg latching onto her belt again, she revved the bike to life and roared down into Death Valley.

 

  
*

  
The dry desert wind died as the sun swung to the center of the sky. Nothing moved across the barren playa; there was nothing to be seen but the dry, cracked earth and the strange tracks left by the sailing stones.

Then the silence was broken by the throaty growl of the Impala. The car crept carefully down from the almost invisible road and into the valley. It stopped at the edge of the valley, and the three men got out, squinting against the sun. Dust stirred up under their feet as they gathered weapons from the trunk and started hiking across the valley.

“We’re sure this is the place?” Dean asked. “There’s nothing here.”

“Cas said to go to Racetrack Playa, right?” Sam replied. “This is it.” He pointed. “There, you can see the sailing stones out there.”

Dean shook his head. “So everyone’s been thinking that aliens or magnetic forces move those stones around, and it’s actually energy from a Hellgate?” He shook his head. “Freaky.”

Alec kicked at a pebble. “What’s not freaky here, let’s be honest.”

By the time they made it to the sailing stones and the intersecting tracks they had made, the brothers were sweaty and out of breath, and Alec was tense. There was no sign of any other kind of life in the valley, and Dean kicked at one of the stones with the toe of his boot in a fit of boredom as he pulled out a bottle of water. Sam had out a pair of binoculars and started scanning the horizon. Alec couldn’t sit still; he felt a coil of energy building in the, crackling across his skin like static electricity. He paced without real direction.

Dean capped the water bottle and tossed it to Sam, who caught it one handed. “We sure this is the right place?”

Alec took a step across the tracks of the stones. The energy hit him like a whip crack, somehow black and dirty and sharp white at the same time. He yelped and staggered back, panting. The brothers stared at him.

“I think it’s the right place,” he managed, and quickly moved away from the invisible but undeniable Hellgate.

The wind shifted and Alec gagged and clapped a hand over his nose and mouth. “What is that?” he demanded. He tried to take another breath and gagged again.

Through watering eyes, he saw the brother’s noses twitched as they sniffed the dry air; Dean sneezed from the dust. “Sulfur,” he said.

“Goddamn, I knew it smelled, but this is horrible.”

“What’s you’re issue?” Dean asked Alec. “It doesn’t smell that bad.”

“Maybe not to you – it’s pretty damn rank for me.” He kept his hand over his nose and tried to keep his eyes from watering.

“Ah, that’s right, superior genetics,” Dean muttered. “Not always so great, huh?”

“I’d guess that little demon army Cas said Meg had is coming,” Sam said, mouth in a grim line.

The roar of vehicles filled the air, and a cloud of dust darkened the sky. A figure appeared on the lip of the ridge; it was the unmistakable silhouette of a person on a motorcycle. A very familiar person. Alec opened his mouth to call out to Max almost instinctively, but just as quickly he realized who it really was. More shapes appeared behind it, blurring everything into a black blob. It was impossible even for Alec’s eyes to cut through the dust, but he felt a jolt shoot through him as he looked to where Angela’s eyes should have been. It snapped through him like an electric shock and he staggered again.

“Shit,” Dean growled. “There’s no way we’re going to stop all of them.”

“Where’s that angel buddy of yours?” Alec asked. “You said he’d be here with back up!”

Before he could reply, the ground began to shake, and a hum swelled through the air. It quickly became a sharp ringing, running towards the edge of unbearable. Alec groaned and clamped his hands over his ears, the shotgun he was holding dropping to the ground. A fine sheet of dust rose above the ground and hovered in the sound waves.

The scream of angelic voices rose even further. Alec fell to his knees; blood leaked from between his fingers and down his jaw. He screamed in pain. Past the agony, he felt Sam stagger over towards him, with Dean a few steps behind. If they were screaming too, he couldn’t hear them. There was nothing but the shrill ringing in his head, slicing through his ears.

There was the sharp smell of ozone and a flash of light. They all shielded their eyes and curled away. As the light faded, dark forms appeared near the center of the valley, wings unfurling like thunder clouds before fading away again.

“That the back up?” Alec panted.

Dean struggled to his feet and swore. “Nope.”

“What are we going to do?” Sam asked.

Dean grimaced. “Buy some time until Cas shows up.”

“Think it will work?”

“I hope so.” He glanced at Alec. “You’re probably safe, being the vessel and all, but us they might just decide to kill on principle.” He shrugged. “Just saying.”

“Christ,” Alec muttered.

 

*

  
She reached the edge of the path where it fell into the valley first and alone.

When the blacktop had faded away, she had kicked Meg off the bike to the battered minivan that a demon who called himself Tommy was driving. Meg had been pissed, grumbling about how she thought they were friends, about having to deal with Tommy, how she had been the one to help her to where she was now, but Angela didn’t care. Meg hadn’t been there when the silver voice of Lucifer had called to her. Meg hadn’t reminded her of her own power and promised more. She’d helped, that was certain, but she wasn’t as important as she thought she was. So Angela had kicked her to minivan and went off down the road by herself.

The smell of ozone and sulfur mixed in the dry air as the wind buffeted around her, lacing dust through her short hair and powdering her skin. With the pavement gone, it was hard to make good time, even on the bike; the park trails and dirt roads hadn’t exactly been kept up, so the vehicles following her stayed closer than she would have liked. Rocks and ruts and even ruined cars obstructed the path. But with every mile that rolled by, her blood sang louder through her veins. Red and black mixed with the silver, and it was all she could do to keep from howling out a battle cry to the world.

Eyes wide and lips parted in a dangerous smile, she pushed the bike up a ridge. And the ground suddenly changed into the sky as the world dropped away. With a quick twist, she turned the bike, wheels throwing up a plume of dust behind her and skidded to a stop. A dead valley was spread out beneath her, all dun colored sand and dull rock. A flick of movement caught her eye; four dark figures stood in the center of the valley. Before she could take a closer look, Meg and her cavalry arrived in a billow of dust and exhaust.

It was then that she realized that the screaming in her blood was echoed in the air. Power thrummed around her, filtered into her lungs and touched the throb of strength in her blood. Even the noise of all the demon filled vehicles behind her could not overcome it. The piercing whistle filled her and she answered it. Head thrown back, she screamed out on the edge of pain and pleasure and power. Muscles froze, joints locked tight, and her vision went white.

The world exploded in a burst of light.

It returned with a heartbeat of silence and then a rumble of thunder. Angela blinked hard against the aftershock of the light and sound. The floor of the valley was now filled with dark shapes; against the opposite side of the valley, against the washed out blue sky and the baked dirt, black wings appeared like shadows.

“Oh, great, the angels are here.” Meg’s voice suddenly filled her ear.

“Are they allies for that woman you killed when I first met you?” Angela asked.

Meg shrugged. “Probably. But the thing is, they’re going after the same thing we are, but they’re not on our side. So we need to hurry.”

Angela got off the bike and went straight for the edge. “Let’s go then.” And then she leapt off into the air.

“Show off,” Meg muttered as she went to the edge and saw Angela working her way down the steep cliff face, finding hand and footholds with a speed and accuracy that boggled the mind. “There is a decent path, right over here!” she pointed. Then, she turned back to the demonic army. “Let’s go, guys! Show time! Get your shit together!”

Angela reached the floor of the valley and blurred. The rumble of vehicles and the accompanying dust rose behind her, but she ignored them. Power tugged at her blood, pulling her forward like iron to a magnet. So she ran.

Despite the fact that she was the only thing moving across the playa, not a single angel noticed her. Their focus was split between the woman at their head, and a knot of people in the center of the crowd. She slowed to a normal run but didn’t change course; there was no place to hide, even if they still hadn’t noticed her, so there was no choice but to go head on. With less than a hundred yards between them, the leader of the angels stepped forward and spoke. Angela automatically flinched as the woman’s voice cracked like a whip across the desert.

“Brothers and sisters! Begin!”

Angela stopped. Her blood continued to sing and the power tugged at her, but the crowd of angels stood between her and the source. She gave into the pull and moved forward.

The leader saw her. “Who are you?”

A grin cut across Angela’s face; the silver light blazed in her mind and throbbed through her blood. “Someone who’s a hell of a lot more important than you.”

The angel’s lip curled. “Lucifer’s vessel.”

Angela spread her arms, and felt the shadow cast by the demon army’s dust cloud cover her like a mantle. “And you say that like a bad thing.”

As the vehicles rumbled to a stop, Meg appeared and stood just behind her. She grinned and waved at the angels. “Hey, Wings. What’s going on?”

“Hold your tongue, scum!” the angel snapped. “I am Raphael, and I will not be spoken to by a demon.”

“Oh, you archangels are so touchy,” Meg said, waving her hand in dismissal. “You’re obviously not too bothered, otherwise you’d be smiting me. We both know why we are here. Thing is, I have my side’s VIP here.” She glanced around. “Don’t see anyone but angels and demons. So I have the advantage.”

Raphael glared, but turned back to the empty side of the valley. As the noise of the vehicles died away, Angela heard a strange chant coming from the center of the angelic mob. Meg heard it too.

“Damn it,” she spun to look at the rest of the demons. “Get going!”

“What’s going on? What’s with the chanting?” Angela demanded as the words twisted into the air and the ground started to tremble.

“It’s a spell to open the door for your Prince,” Meg replied. “Problem is, Flyboys over there also have a champion they want to let loose. We wanna beat them, but even if we don’t they’re missing a part.”

“What?”

“Well, we have you.”

“Hey, dick head!” a voice bellowed out.

Raphael’s head snapped around, and Meg and Angela turned as well. Three men strode across the playa, armed and determined.

“Well, it does appear that we have a vessel here as well,” Raphael said.

Alec’s head snapped around as she spoke, and his eyes narrowed. “Oh, he’s here all right,” he drew his gun and flicked the safety off, “but he ain’t gonna play nice.”

He felt the Winchesters move to flank him, weapons at the ready.

“Yeah, Raphael, you think we’re gonna let you try to end the world again, after we stopped you last time?” Dean rolled his eyes. “Nice try.”

“That’s Raphael?” Alec asked. “Thought he’d be taller… and a dude.”

“He’s still a dick, no matter what he looks like,” Dean replied. Then he turned his attention back to Raphael. “So you gonna quit this or are we gonna have to do this the hard way?”

The angel snorted. “There is nothing you can do. The spell is opening the cage, and once that happens, Michael will claim his vessel, as will Lucifer, and the Apocalypse will happen, and order will be restored.”

“Yeah, I don’t think so.” Alec lifted his gun and fired it point blank at Raphael’s face.

Lead smacked into flesh and bone, but Raphael just shook her head and the bullet fell out, and her forehead repaired itself.

“Weren’t you listening at all when we were talking about how to kill things?” Dean demanded.

“Yeah. But it felt good.”

“Enough!” Raphael roared. She turned to the front rank of angels. “Attack the demons, and prevent them from opening the gate first. We want Michael to have the advantage. And take Lucifer’s vessel hostage and secure Michael’s. Now!”

Meg swore, grabbed Angela’s arm and started to run. “Come on, Princess!” She dragged her along back towards the rest of the demons. “Tommy, get your ass in gear! The angels are going strike force on us!”

At the same time, the Winchesters both moved to stand in front of Alec, weapons swinging up to the ready.

“Back off, I’m faster and stronger than both of you,” he snapped.

They ignored him. The angelic horde broke up into several groups. The core stayed still, and the chanting rose in volume and intensity; across the playa, the demons did the same. One group broke away and went for the demons, while several others strode towards the Winchesters and Alec, who did a slow, strategic retreat towards the car.

“You think we could do a massive angel banishing sigil and send them all away?” Dean asked out of the side of his mouth.

Sam grunted. “Could work. There are a lot of them, though.”

“Holy oil?”

“That’d be a massive circle. No way we get it put down and lit before they’re on us.”

“No, fry their wings.”

“Not enough oil for that many.”

The angels were almost on them. Alec lifted his gun and fired several shots between the brother’s shoulders and hit the angels. They flinched at the impact, but did not slow.

Hands clapped over his ringing ears, Dean snarled, “Didn’t I tell you that doesn’t work?”

“Not to mention it’s fucking loud!” Sam echoed.

“What stops them? Because we’re running out of options!”

Dean glanced around the playa, which was crawling with activity like a kicked anthill. “Okay, here’s the plan. Sammy, you get back to the car, draw a sigil, and if that doesn’t work, get the oil, and we’ll fry as many of these asshats as possible. Alec and I will cover you. And Alec, just don’t say yes if they do manage to pop Michael out of the Cage.”

“Yeah, don’t worry.” Screams tore through the air along with flashes of light as the angels and demons clashed; ozone and sulfur clogged Alec’s nose and choked him. The angels continued their inexorable advance, as they inched backwards, step by step. “Wait, guys, I have an idea.”

“Yeah?” Sam asked.

“These asshats all need vessels, right? And the only thing out here for miles and miles are us and a bunch of poor possessed bastards. So if I get to Angela and keep her from saying yes, there’s nothing that Lucifer can do, right?”

The brothers glanced at each other, thoughts playing across their faces.

“Cas did say that they needed consent on this side before they were able to get out, because the Cage isn’t really being opened all the way.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Dean agreed. “But I don’t like the idea of splitting up.

Alec growled. “How many times do I have to say this? I’m better than both of you.”

“Fine, fine,” Dean growled. “Get ready, then. Make a break and get your ass over to Angela, past angels and demons, don’t get yourself killed, and then stop her from saying yes. You should be fine.”

“Watch me.”

There was less than ten feet between them and the angels, but over a hundred yards to the Impala. Sam split his attention between the angels and the ground behind them, gauging the distances, while Alec fought to see were Angela was in the mess of fighting and chanting bodies; he had a strong feeling she was right in the middle of it. Dean just continued to stare down the angels.

One of the angels flicked his hand and hefted his blade. “Come now. Don’t fight.”

Dean rolled his eyes and snapped off a shot of rock salt into the nearest angels’ face. It did nothing but piss off the angel. “You don’t know who we are, do you?”

“You are not needed, Winchester. We only need the new vessel. Raphael said nothing about harming you.” He flicked his hand, and Dean went flying, and the second angel tossed Sam away.

The third angel lifted his hand, but before he could do anything, Alec darted away, blurring to the side. He paused and glanced at the Winchesters. Sam was up and running towards the Impala. Dean, who had apparently been tossed harder, staggered up and pointed towards the demons.

“Get going, kid!”

Trusting that the brother’s knowledge of how to deal with angels and everything else would keep them from being ripped to shreds, Alec blurred towards the mass of demons.

The battle was just as much of a mess as he thought it would be. Though from what he had heard and seen about angels, he’d expected them to cut a swath through the demons without much trouble. But the demons were putting up a good fight. Silver angels blades were in demonic hands as well as angelic, and the flashes of light weren’t just from exploding demons. And there were just more demons.

He got past the fringes of the fight without trouble, weaving with a speed that even the supernaturally charged people around him couldn’t match. But as soon as the press of bodies and the frenzy of battle tightened up, it became more difficult.

The stink of sulfur and bitter bite of ozone filled his nostrils, and the unbelievable power swelling around and from the Hellgate throbbed though his blood. The itch of freedom and the scream of power that had all been in his first dreams flooded through him again, but more intense and forceful than before. He clenched his jaw and forced his mind back to the battle field.

He pressed past struggling bodies, deflecting blows instinctively; it hardly mattered if someone was purposefully tying to attack him or not in the mess. An angel swung at him, silver blade glinting in the sun. Alec blocked the blow with his forearm, twisted, and grabbed the man’s wrist, and slammed his other elbow down. The bone snapped, and he grabbed the blade as it fell from the angel’s now slack grip. With another quick twist he stabbed the angel. Blue white light flared around him. Before it had even faded, he was running again.

On the deserted stretch of sand between the battling forces and the Impala, Dean staggered to his feet and brandished an angel blade. Two out of the three angels that had initially gone after them squared off against him; the third’s now empty vessel lay sprawled in a puddle of blood and wing shaped scorch marks. Blood stained teeth made his feral grin even more macabre, and he flicked the blade through the air. “Who’s next?”

Behind him, he heard Sam scrambling to his feet and running for the car. “Banish ‘em, Sammy!” he bellowed, and rushed forward.

Sam sliced his hand open and smeared a red circle on the hood of the Impala. But before he could continue, an angelic scream filled the air and rush of wings blew dirt through the air. He spun around, knife coming up automatically. Yards away, Dean was on his knees, throat in the grip of one angel, as the other twisted the angel blade out of his hand.

“Dean!” he bellowed and automatically started forward. But before he could take more than a step, the dust settled, and a trench coated figure stepped out of the cloud, angel blade in hand.

Cas stabbed the angel that had Dean, and twisting free of both, Dean lunged forward and stabbed the other.

“Sam! No more banishing!” he called out, voice rough from the near strangulation. He took Cas’s hand and stood up. “Where the hell have you been?”

“Getting help.”

A third force of angels had joined the battle. Light from spilled grace, smoke from smote demons and screams of pain roiled from the battle.

“And it took you this long?” Dean wondered.

“There were… a few complications. Not everyone was on board.”

“In fighting? At this point?”

Cas didn’t reply.

Sam ran up and cast a worried eye at his brother. “You okay?”

“Better than them,” he said, nodding towards the angels. “Damn, I’m good. Took down three on my own.”

“They weren’t trying particularly hard,” Sam said. “I think they wanted to toy with you.”

“Fuckers,” Dean said, and spat out blood tinged saliva. “We gotta get back to Alec.”

“And stop the spell workers,” Cas added. “Where is Alec?”

“On the demon side of things, going after Angela.”

Cas nodded and looked over the battle field, strategizing. “You two go and help him. I am going to stop Raphael’s spell workers.” His wings whooshed and he disappeared.

Sam scooped up one of the fallen angel blades, demon killing knife in the other hand. “You ready?” he asked.

“Let’s go get that kid and put all these bastards back in their place.”

 

  
*

He sensed her before he actually saw her. Her potential power flared out and brushed against some sixth sense Michael’s badgering had awoken. She stood between several demons, fixed on something in the center the of spell workers. Fissures had opened in the dirt in the center of the circle and the chanting went up a notch.

“Shit,” he muttered and put on an extra burst of speed.

By chance or by some sixth sense of her own, Angela turned. He was just an arm’s length away from her, and when she brought up her arm to hit him, he grabbed her.

“Sorry, sister, but you’re coming with me.”

She twisted like an eel, hissing through her teeth. “Let go!”

“Yeah, sorry, not going to happen.” With a quick twist of his own, he pulled her struggling body close and pinned her against his chest. And a small hand settled onto his shoulder. It was small, but the grip was iron.

“Oh, pretty boy, I know exactly where you come from!” she drawled. “And I know right where you’re going if you don’t let her go.”

“Back off, bitch!”

She shook her head. “That’s not very polite.”

He struggled to keep Angela pinned and the stench of sulfur hit him in the nose. “Let me rephrase it, then. Back off, demon bitch!”

“There’s no doubt you’re a Winchester,” she sighed and lifted a hand. “Let go of Princess here, and I won’t toss you around the valley like a bouncy ball.”

For a moment, Angela stopped struggling. “Meg, no. Back off. This is between us.”

Meg sighed. “Fine, I get it. Vessel to vessel, transgenic to transgenic. Have fun.”

Without warning, Angela kicked him in the shin. He winced but didn’t loosen his grip.

Meg rolled her eyes. “Here, just let me get you two your own space to deal with this.” She flicked her hand and sent them flying out into the valley.

They hit the ground in a tangle of limbs. Alec refused to let go, and had ruined any chance of landing well for either of them. But he hit the ground with Angela on top of him; the impact jarred him enough that she twisted out and away, gaining her feet a few seconds before he did. The angel blade skittered across the dirt and away.

“What are you doing?” she demanded. Thoughts ricocheted around her head, agitated by burning flashes of silver light and power that demanded her attention.

Alec staggered to his feet, blinking dust out of his eyes. “I’m trying to keep the world from ending.”

“Why?” She narrowed her eyes and squared off against him. “Did Max send you out on some sort of mission? She does have a savior complex. I’m surprised she’s not here herself.”

“She was actually against it.” He rocked on the balls of his feet, but she shifted a step away, ready for any move on his part. “This is all on me, sister.”

The silver power built in her mind until she felt it pressing against her skull, threatening to burst out of her eyes. She fought it and spoke, the words tumbling out without conscious effort. “Don’t you see? This is supposed to happen! If we don’t do this now, the world will destroy itself. It will destroy all of us, transgenics! We do this, we help with this, we will save our people! I have been seeing it in my dreams!”

Alec shook his head. “Christ, listen to yourself. They’ve got you just as brain washed as Manticore ever did! Do you think these angels and demons give a shit about who we are? They’ve been planning this for eons before we were ever created. We are nothing but pawns to them.”

Angela shook her head violently. “No! I will get a family again! I won’t be alone anymore!” She sprang at him, fists and feet striking to hurt.

He danced back out of the way, deflecting a blow with his forearm and swinging back. “Yeah, you won’t be alone – because some asshat angel is going to be in your head, going to take your body. You won’t be alone, but you won’t be in control anymore.”

She just snarled and attacked with more fury. Within seconds, the ferocity of the blows became deadly.

 

  
*

  
High above the dust and reek of the battle, a lone figure in black watched. The battlefield was even more muddled than before. Three forces surged back and forth around the two core circles, where the wild chanting of Enochian opening rites spiraled up out of the dust. No one was making any sort of headway. Raphael’s angels were contending with Meg’s demons, and Castiel’s forces were split between the two; his own contingent of demons was just happy to kill angels – it didn’t really matter which side they were on. One side or the other would open the cracks in the cage and the Apocalypse would start again.

Crowley shook his head. “If you want something done right… and so forth…”

He lifted a hand and pointed around the valley, drawing a massive circle with his mind, projecting the power to inscribe it into the dirt and rock around the valley itself. The circle closed and energy hummed through the air, crackling like a massive power line. But no one on the battle field noticed. He started his own chant.

 

  
*

  
The brothers sprinted towards the crush of bodies, weapons at the ready.

“How are we going to find Alec in this?” Sam asked.

Dean shrugged. “Don’t know. But we’re going to have to.”

From the demonic side of the battle, a large dark blob suddenly flew into the air and landed several hundred yards further down the valley. In a cloud of dust, two figures staggered to their feet. The speed and grace of their movements left no question of who they were, if the familiar silhouettes hadn’t been enough of a clue.

“Found ‘em.” Dean changed course and ran for the two struggling figures.

It didn’t take long for Sam to catch up. “We’ve seen how the transgenics can move and fight, Dean, we may just become a hazard for him.”

“We’re not bad in a fight. And then he’ll have numbers on his side. And we’re not letting another member of this family get screwed over by the angels – even if he’s a clone from an alternate reality.”

“Okay. You’re right.” Sam’s face hardened.

A wild shriek pierced the air as they reached the scuffle. Two transgenic bodies twisted out of the dust cloud, and one landed heavily.

“Damn it, Angela!” Alec’s voice was raw and thick with pain; he twisted in the dust to protect his left side and move out of range of another strike. “You’re more stubborn than Max, you know that?”

She stepped out of the shadowing dust, fury burning through her like a silver flame, short hair disheveled and blood leaking from the corner of her mouth. “I am not stubborn, I am right. And you… you are wrong, and weak. And you will say yes, because you will not want to be alone.”

“He’s not,” Dean snarled.

Angela turned her heated glare to him. “Oh look. Humans.”

Alec blinked up at the brothers. “Back off guys. This is between us.”

Dean snorted and leaned down to grab Alec’s arm. “Not quite.”

Sam grabbed his other arm and carefully helped lift him back to his feet. “It’s a family thing.”

Angela’s lips lifted in a snarl. “Back off, or I’ll have your asses too.”

Alec shook away the Winchesters’ hands. “Let go, I’m fine. Get out of here, I’ve got this.”

“Right, with broken ribs,” Sam said.

Suddenly, a massive subterranean rumble shook the earth. Angela turned her head, froze for a moment and suddenly laughed. At the same time, Alec screamed in pain and dropped to his knees, clutching his head.

“Fuck, no!” he bellowed.

Angela’s voice echoed his. “He’s here, he’s here!” Limbs thrown wide in ecstasy, breath erratic, she looked back to the men in front of her. Silver light shone out of her eyes.

Alec staggered to his feet and reached for her. “Don’t say it,” he said between clenched teeth. “Angela, don’t-” His hand latched onto her sleeve.

She ignored him. “Hello, Prince,” she whispered. “My answer is y-”

Before she could finish the word, the world exploded into light and sound. Dean instinctively dove for Sam, and grabbed him around the wrist, even as Sam reached out for Alec. The ground dropped away and the sky came crashing down. Everything twisted, turned, and transformed. Angels screamed on a level past hearing, and demons wailed through throats that should have been shredded by the force. Everything went white.

There was a heartbeat of suspension, and then Alec felt the tug of gravity as he plummeted again. The only thing he could do was grab onto Angela’s wrist and hope that it would end fast; Sam’s hand was tight on the back of his jacket. He heard Angela screaming in fury and agony, heard Dean’s pained cry, and heard Sam shouting his brother’s name. Then the roar of his blood and wind through his ears blotted everything out.

Then there was a sudden whoosh of wings and the free fall slowed down. Dust billowed into his face and he hit the ground hard. The air rushed out of his lungs, and he fought to breathe, the agony of his broken rips ricocheting off the scales.

Somehow Dean’s voice cut through the fog of pain and confusion cloaking his senses.

“Cas? What the hell, man?”

“A little gratitude would be appropriate,” Castiel replied, voice thin and strained. “If we make it out of this, remember that.”

Alec fought to even his breathing and open his eyes. The pressure tightened around his lungs, eased, and tightened again. “What’s happening?” he gasped and opened his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he expected. The same blighted desert greeted him, ripped apart by battle. But it had changed. The combatants where no longer organized, the once battle lines scattered and broken. There was no more chanting; it was all screaming.

“Where are we?” Sam asked. “Are we still in Death Valley?”

“Not where, when.” Castiel’s voice fought against the chaos around them.

“ _When?_ ” Dean demanded.

“A third spell happened! Someone sent everyone back eleven years!”

“Why the hell would they do that? Didn’t they want to open the Cage? And who did it? One of your guys?” Dean staggered up and stared around the valley.

“I don’t know!” Cas sounded out of control.

Power surged and thrummed through the air, but Alec realized that the pressure of the caged archangel wasn’t in his head anymore. “He’s gone.”

Sam shifted his grip from Alec’s jacket to his shoulder. “Who’s gone?” He asked.

“Michael.”

Wrist still clasped in Alec’s hand, Angela suddenly twisted and screamed. “NO! No, no come back!”

She flailed wildly, a fist catching Alec across the jaw and kicking Dean in the shin. Dean snarled and grabbed her other arm. “Settle down!”

A throb of power pounded across the valley, a massive shock wave; Dean was knocked off his feet, Sam and Alec flinched against the blast of air and sand. Less than a heartbeat later the sound of an explosion hit them, and Alec groaned against the noise.

“The spells are falling apart!” Castiel shouted. “The fallout will be catastrophic!”

“Then what the hell are you waiting for, get us out of here!” Dean said, all but sitting on the still struggling Angela. She screamed and increased her fight. Something cracked. “Shit! That was your arm, stop!”

Something clicked in Alec’s head. “Wait, you said eleven years? That makes it 2009. That’s when The Pulse-”

Angels and demons screamed. The air rushed towards the center of the valley in a heartbeat of intense power. And then the world exploded.

Before the shockwave could hit them, there was a rush of wings again, and Alec felt his body jerked up into the air and twisted again. And then he was in the dirt, choking and groaning against the shock and the ache in his ribs.

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

  
**Chapter Five**

  
This time, the valley was silent. No forces of heaven and hell fought, no voices screamed out magic. Beyond the pounding of his pulse, Alec heard the Winchesters stagger to their feet and Angela sobbing quietly.

“Cas? Cas!” Dean called.

Alec managed to sit up and look around. The valley was empty. There was only a small cloud of dust settling around them. Dirt and sand was scuffed up around the valley, but there was no other sign that a battle had happened, that the apocalypse had threatened to start again.

Sam spun in a circle, eyes wide. “Where did he go?”

“Dammit Cas!” Dean threw his hands in the air and let them drop. “Thanks!”

The brother’s voices turned into a buzz and the valley wavered and Alec took a deep breath to get control again. It took several moments for his pummeled senses to sort themselves again. And he realized that Angela was saying something around her sobs.

“Nonononononononono. Come back, come back!” On her stomach, she reached towards the closed Hellgate. “Come back!” She fought to stand up, but her broken arm gave out and she collapsed again. “No, please!” Her entire body started shaking.

Alec shifted to his knees, gently took her shoulders and turned her over so she was propped up against him. “Hey, easy. Angela. It’s over.” He took a deep breath closed his eyes as she continued to struggle and cry in denial. The Winchesters came over to stand next to him. “Easy, Angela.”

Dean bent and got a hand under Angela’s arm. “Come on, let’s get her to the car.”

Sam helped Alec up and stayed close as he swayed, arm wrapped around his ribs. Dean had one arm wrapped around Angela’s waist and supported her broken arm with the other. She sagged in his grip, eyes closed, whimpering as shivers ran through her small frame. “Ready?”

They were less than half way to the car when Angela groaned and staggered to a stop. Her shivering increased.

“Okay, I’m gonna pick you up, and you’re gonna be okay with it,” Dean said and shifted to get his arm under her knees.

She whimpered and continued to shake. “N-no. Make it s-stop. Make it-t stop.” She gulped hard, eyes fluttering but unfocused. “I need it. Meg. I need it.”

Sam’s breath hitched and Alec saw the color drain out of his face. “Oh, god, no. She’s detoxing.”

Dean struggled to hold her as she struggled and shivered. “Already? How-?”

“Increased metabolism,” Alec panted.

Angela screamed and twisted in Dean’s grip, body fighting against the hold and the pain of the detox. “Make it stop!”

Sam rushed forward and grabbed Angela to help Dean lower her to the ground. “We can’t take her in the car like this, she’ll break herself and it.”

“Tie her up?” Dean suggested.

“Better be strong – takes a bit to keep an X-5 down,” Alec said, dropping to his knees at Angela’s head and pulled her into his lap. As she continued to convulse and cry, he muttered, “Fuck, this is worse than the shakes.”

After a moment, Angela’s tremors slowed, and she blinked, coherency filtering back into her gaze. She caught Alec’s eyes and whispered, “Please. End it. Make it stop.”

He grimaced and said quietly, “I don’t have tryp’ or demon blood. I can’t fix it. You need to fight it.”

She let out a sound somewhere between a sob and laugh. “I’m too tired. Too broken. I can’t fight it.”

“No, you are stronger than this.” Sam was there suddenly, his big hands gentle on Angela’s face. “Trust me, I know. I know how it feels to have that power and then to get this sick from it. Just – you just have to fight it, and be stronger than it. Because you are.”

She shook her head, tears leaking out of the corner of her eyes. “No. No, I’m not.”

“Angela, you have to listen to me, I know exactly what you’re going through, I was there too!” Sam’s voice turned desperate as her tremors started again.

She ignored him and looked at Alec. “I can’t. I have no one. And it hurts too much. That blood did something t-to me. It m-made me strong, b-but it burned me up. T-there’s nothing left-t.”

He knew what she was telling him, what she wanted. But he couldn’t. She wasn’t Max, but it didn’t stop him from seeing her in Angela’s face. And he couldn’t take that step. “What about that guy and the kid? Don’t you want to stick around for them?”

Her head lolled erratically, pulled around by her denial and pain. “Left-t me. T-too dangerous for them. B-better without me.”

Dean flinched but did not speak.

Angela stared up at Alec. “ _Please._ ”

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he looked up at the brothers. “The Cage is shut? They can’t touch her?”

“I don’t think Raphael and his gang will be back,” Sam said quietly. “There’s no way they’re trying that again. The Cage was never opened, so you’re both fine.”

Alec nodded and swallowed hard. “You sure?” he asked her.

She nodded a faint smile touching her mouth before another tremor wracked her body. “Please. I can’t do this anymore.”

“Okay.” He smoothed her hair and slipped a hand behind her neck, cradling her head, breathing as erratic as hers.

Her shivers crept towards a full seizure. “It’s okay, Alec,” she gasped. “ _Please_.”

“Okay,” he said again, no breath or strength to the word as she continued to shake in his arms. “Easy, Angela. It’s over.” His hand clenched, arm jerked once; there was a crack and Angela fell lax against him with a soft sigh. “It’s over.”

Dean swore, stood and strode away.

Sam rocked back on his heels, any color in his face gone, eyes glimmering with tears. “Oh, no. Why?” he breathed.

Alec slipped out from under her and started walking across the desert. He could feel the burn of the sun on his skin, the flare of pain in his ribs. But at the same time, he felt nothing. He was numb. His hand had broken Angela’s neck, and something in his core had shattered at the same instant. The world rushed in at him, swirling like water. His blood rushed in his head, loud and insistent. He felt the ground slip away from his feet; what could have been Dean’s voice called out across the void that swallowed him. And then darkness took over.

 

*

  
The moon shone down on a crossroads in the middle of America sometime in 2009, in a time and place where the Winchester brothers had fought and beaten the Apocalypse once, a step away from another timeline where they had done it again. And Castiel was meeting Crowley again. And he was furious.

“What kind of move was that?” he demanded. “That spell nearly ripped the very fabric of time and space. And that explosion did unimaginable damage to that time line.”

Crowley rolled his eyes. “You sound like something out of Doctor Who, do shut up.” He ignored the glare Castiel gave him. “Didn’t you read the history of that time line? There was supposed to be a massive explosion. Everyone said it was an EM pulse. Turns out it was just spells collapsing.” He shrugged. “Time hasn’t been changed or ripped or whatnot.”

“You didn’t even consult me about that move. What else are you not telling me?”

“Castiel, we are partners in this endeavor, not married. I don’t have to tell you everything before I do it. That move was beneficial for all of us, was it not? So don’t be a baby about it.” He snapped his fingers and disappeared.

For several long minutes, Castiel stayed in the crossroads, fists clenched and breath harsh. Then he flew off as well. But he couldn’t shake the feeling that his plans were unraveling and getting completely out of control.

 

*

  
The drive back to Terminal City was silent; even Dean couldn’t force it away with classic rock. Alec sat in the back seat, head against the cool glass, staring out at the landscape but not seeing it. The black pit that had opened in his chest when he had killed Angela had not faded with time and distance. He kept hearing Max’s voice, spilling out the story of Ben, remembered the pain he’d endured in Pys-Ops while being told his clone was an insane murderer. And he had just murdered Angela. He was under no orders, no threat. He had made that decision on his own, out of pity. But that was hardly enough of a reason.

When they stopped to sleep for the night, no one managed much more than a few hours. Nightmares haunted them all, and if one wasn’t woken by the dreams, then he’d wake up from one of the other’s screams. He wasn’t sure what the brothers saw, but he kept seeing himself killing Max. She’d be mangled and torn up, and he would kill her, snap her neck without thought or remorse. Every time he closed his eyes, the scene played again and again until he swore off sleep entirely.

They were all exhausted when they finally arrived in TC. Alec almost didn’t get out of the car when he saw the crowd of people that had rushed into the courtyard at the sound of the old car. He sat with his forehead pressed against the back of the passenger seat, shoulder slumped. He blinked and looked up when someone rapped on the window.

Dean looked down at him, a steady mask in place over his own exhaustion, but understanding clear in his eyes. He opened the door and said quietly. “Come on, kid. There’s a big mutt out here looking for you.”

Alec blinked slowly again and then got out of the car. Joshua rushed forward with a wide smile and his arms spread. Alec braced himself, the burn of his still healing ribs running through his side. Dean stepped up again, and put a hand on Joshua’s arm. “Easy, big guy. He’s got some busted ribs.”

Joshua stopped and looked wildly through the crowd. “Where is Doc Fraiser? Someone find the Doc for Alec,” he said firmly.

Alec groaned as he saw Dalton and Jude dive away towards the med wing. “I’m fine, Josh. Just have to heal on my own.”

“Good. Come back to the apartment and rest. Get better.”

As much as he wanted to, Alec couldn’t. The crowd wouldn’t let him. They pressed around him and the Winchesters, snapping off questions, offering happy welcomes and other questions. He could see the edges of the Winchesters’ masks wearing thin; they didn’t want this attention any more than he did.

Max appeared out of the crowd, and Alec had to bite back a sob. She was not broken like in his dreams, and she was certainly not Angela. She was alive - worn and tired, yes – but so very alive. She stopped at the edge of the crowd and took in the whole.

“Alright, everyone back to work!” she bellowed. “You’ve all said hello, and he’s not going anywhere. We all have things to do! So do it!”

As the crowd dispersed, urged by Mole, who took over the shouting, and the brothers stayed with Joshua, Alec smiled and walked over to Max.

“I almost thought you were going to end with ‘bip, bip!’ for a second, Maxie.”

She shrugged. “Naw, that’s Normal’s thing.” Then she smiled. “It’s good to have you back, Alec.”

“It’s good to be back.” He took a deep breath. “How has everything been?”

She shrugged. “No one’s starving, everyone’s got a place to sleep, and the government isn’t going to kill us anytime soon.” She caught his gaze. “How did it go for you?”

“Oh, you know. Saved the world. Met some interesting people.” He swallowed. “Max, Angela didn’t make it. She was hurting, bad, and she asked me to end it. So I did.”

He watched as the words hit her like a hammer blow, but she recovered quickly. “Alec… you can’t let this carry with you. Cuz it will eat you up inside. Okay? And I need you to be here.”

“No promises,” he said quietly. “But I’ll be here, okay?”

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Hey, Alec!” Dean called before walking across the courtyard. “Sam and I need to get back to our own timeline-”

“Don’t look at me for help,” he said with a half grin.

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, because you are completely worthless in that area. But Sam’s going to look at some paintings, I need to prep the spell, and you still have stuff in the car. Come on, I’ll help you and you can help me. Won’t hurt you to learn a little bit more about spell work.”

“If you say so.”

Max held out her hand to Dean. “Thanks. For doing what you did. And for making sure he got his stupid ass back here.” She nodded to Alec.

Dean took her hand and grinned. “If I had someone like you back here, I’d make it back, too.”

She glared at him, and Dean smirked back and went to the car. “What you waiting for, Alec? I’m not carrying all of your junk.”

They dropped Alec’s duffle off and were setting up the spell components around the car before Dean spoke of anything other than pointless small talk.

“I heard what Max said to you earlier. And it’s true.”

Alec raised an eyebrow but didn’t say anything, putting a small pile of moonstones at one quarter of the circle.

“You did what you had to do, kid. And you have a job to do. You can’t let it stop you.”

Alec snorted. “Sure. I’ll just keep going, even though I am one step closer to a monster I swore I’d never become. I killed enough people when I was forced to, when I was a soldier. What I did to Angela… Do you know how it feels to be a monster?”

“Yeah. Yeah I do. And so does Sammy. But you know what? We’ve made bad choices. We paid for them, are still paying for them. But you find a reason to keep moving. And you’ve got it here.”

“Alec needs rest!” Joshua’s voice boomed across the courtyard.

Dean and Alec turned to see Sam and Joshua heading their way. Dean shook his head. “Still think some of Sammy’s DNA is in that big guy. Makes perfect sense.”

“Don’t worry, Josh, almost done here.”

With a heartfelt smile, Joshua shook hands with Sam and headed back inside. “Going to make mac and cheese! And little hot dogs!” he called back.

Sam smiled and turned to Alec, expression becoming serious. “Take care of yourself, okay, Alec?” he said as they shook hands. The grin quirked back to life. “Dean give you a big brother talk?”

“Uh, yeah he did.”

“Figured. The idiot can’t take his own advice, most days, but he’s not an idiot.”

“Sammy! Let’s go!”

“Relax, Dean! You can’t pronounce the Enochian well enough to leave me here.” He turned back to Alec and said. “Take care of yourself. You helped save the world. Just think what you can do here.”

Alec stood in the courtyard for a long time after the Impala disappeared in a flash of white light. The cold, misty rain of Seattle beaded in his hair and on his jacket. He didn’t hear Max come out and stand next to him, but he felt her hand on his shoulder and turned.

“You gonna be okay?” she asked quietly.

He took a deep breath. “Yeah. Yeah. We’ve got work to do. Let’s go.”

_Fin._

 


End file.
